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No. I. — December 2i, 1893. $2.00 per Year. 

Eiitered .-vt New Yi rk Post Oflke .ns Second-Class Matter. 


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— «* ^.^1 




MAGGIE FELT DEGRADED AT BFJNG TRANSFORMED INTO A FIGURE 







ROMANCE 

OF A 

DRY GOODS DRUMMER 


' ■ / 

MARIE WALSH 

AUTHOR OF “hazel KIRKE,” “ SAINTS AND SINNERS,” “ WIFE OF TWO HUS- 
BANDS,” “for LOVE OF GOLD,” “ THE LOST PARADISE,” ETC. 


A 'REALISTIC NOVEL OF LIFE IN A BROADWA V 
DRY GOODS STORE 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

. I. 

The Dry Goods Drummer, 

7 

II. 

News of the Tragedy, 

14 

III. 

The Broken Engagement, 

. 29 

IV. 

Satins and E/iamonds, 

37 

V. 

Seeking a Situation, . 

. 45 

VI. 

The New Broadway Firm, 

59 

VII. 

The Beautiful Figure, 

. 67 

VIII. 

Her Customer, 

76 

IX. 

The Millionaire’s Will, 

. 86 

X. 

Edward Osgood’s Temptation, 

94 

XI. 

The Wholesale Drummer, 

, . . 104 

XII. 

In the Toils, . , . . 

112 

XIII. 

Madame Roland, . . . . 

. 122 

XIV. 

Bargains, . .... 

131 

XV. 

The Shoplifter, 

. 138 

XVI. 

Alone in the World, 

145 

XVII. 

Laura Graham,' . . . . 

. 151 

XVIII. 

Fighting the Battle of Life, 

158 

XIX. 

Out of Sing Sing, 

166 

XX. 

A Fashionable Man and Wife, 

175 

XXL 

Face to Face, . . . . 

. 186 

XXII. 

A Strange Meeting, 

194 


V 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER • PAGE 

XXIII. Margaret’s Secret Foe, .... 202 

XXIV. Margaret’s Unhappy Fate, . . . 211 

XXV. A Strange Interview, .... 219 

XXVI. Unraveling a Mystery 226 

XXVII. The New Patient, 234 

XXVIII. Inside of Woodbine Asylum, . . . 241 

XXIX. A Terrible Temptation, .... 249 

XXX. Madame Roland’s Escape, . . . 255 

XXXI. Friends in Need 263 

XXXII. Tpie Deserted Wife, 271 

XXXIII. Behind the Counter, 278 

XXXIV. The Young Mother’s Trial, . . . 285 

XXXV. Madame Roland Defies her Enemies . . 292 

XXXVI. The Wolf at the Door, "... 301 

XXXVII. On the Potomac, 306 

XXXVIII. The Court-Martial, 315 

XXXIX. In Libby Prison, 322 

XL. Escape from Libby Prison, . . . 328 

XIT. Rescued from the Flames, ..... 336 

XLII. The Silent Partner, .... 345 

XLIII. As ye Sow, so shall ye Reap, . . . 352 

XLIV. New York Draft Riots, .... 339 

XLV. Retribution, 366 

XLVI. P'oiLED AT Last, 372 


ROMANCE OF 
A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“Who is he?” asked Tom Norris, as his friend, 
Harry Spaulding, bowed to a tall, dignified gentleman, 
who passed through a Pullman /Palace car, aboard the 
Pennsylvania railroad, on September 7, 1873. 

“That is Mr. Osgood, a dry goods drummer in the 
employ of H. B. Claflin. He is better known to the 
trade as ‘The Colonel.’ ’’ 

“I never heard of him.’’ 

“You are behind the age, Norris.’’ 

“I suppose so; but this is my second year on the road, 
my friend.’’ • 

“That accounts for your limited acquaintance with the 
boys. I’ll post you,’’ said Spaulding, with a smile, and 
a merry twinkle in his eyes. 

“Pray do so. Your friend is a very handsome man. 
I should imagine, from his title and his erect carriage, 
that he had been in the army.’’ 

“You are right. • Colonel Osgood entered the army as 


8 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


a private, and for his gallant conduct was rapidly pro- 
moted until he attained the rank of colonel. We had 
no braver man in our service than Colonel Osgood,” said 
Harry Spaulding enthusiastically. 

The train was ascending the Allegheny Mountains; 
and the grandeur of the landscape, in all its wild mag- 
nificence, burst upon the tourists. Horseshoe Bend is 
probably the finest scenic view upon this portion of the 
road. The mountains, in all their grim, silent beauty, 
seem to rise and mingle with the blue horizon, as the 
sunshine lights up the trees and brushwood, and gives a 
fitting background to the beauties of the valley below as 
the train dashes around the curve. 

At Crescent Springs, there is a delightful mountain 
retreat; a handsome hotel, with an excellent cuisine, 
and many other comforts to offer to its guests, amid the 
cool mountain breeze, laden with its delightful and 
health-giving odors. 

The two drummers alighted at Crescent Springs, and 
partook of a lunch. When the conductor cried, “All 
aboard,” they hastily ran for their train, and on ascend- 
ing the steps of the car,, saw Colonel Osgood standing on 
the platform. 

Harry Spaulding’s face beamed as he laid his hand on 
his old friend’s arm, and said a few pleasant words 
regarding the old war times, when the country called her 
children to defend the Union. 

Suddenly remembering his chum, who stood beside 
them, he turned and said, “Colonel, allow me to intro- 
duce you to my friend Tom Norris, who, like ourselves, 
is a dry goods drummer.” 

“Happy to meet you, Mr. Norris,” replied Colonel 


THE DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


9 


Osgood, shaking hands with the young commercial 
traveler. “How do you find trade, sir?” 

“Rather quiet, colonel. 1 sold some goods in Phila- 
delphia before I left ; but I find the Quaker City is a 
hard place to drum in, on account of its proximity to 
New York. “ 

“You are right. I do not go there until after I attend 
to my Western trade. I never try to sell anything until 
I reach Chicago, except when I start in at Cincinnati.” 

“Do you ever drum East?” 

“No, our firm has two other men on the road East, I 
have all the large western cities to myself.” 

“Few of our drummers are so fortunate as you are, 
colonel,” remarked Spaulding. 

“Nonsense, Harry; you sold over twenty thousand 
dollars’ worth of goods in Chicago last season.” 

“Well! that city needs drygoods, and it will not be 
supplied for some years to come, after its great fire. I 
never saw a place so cleaned out of everything as it was 
after the fire, when I sold that bill of goods.” 

“It was not much better last fall. My friend, Marshall 
Field, purchased a heavy bill of goods of me.” 

“You are lucky, colonel, in having Marshall Field for 
a customer. I tried to get him to look at some of our 
samples, the last time I was in Chicago; but I could not 
get him to give me his attention.” 

“He is a personal friend of mine, and that, perhaps, 
makes a difference,” said Colonel Osgood, as he bowed 
and passed on to his seat in the next car. 

“1 do not wonder,” remarked Norris to his friend, 
“that Colonel Osgood is such a popular drummer.” 

“What do you mean?” 


10 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“That he has more magnetism than most of the 
boys.” 

“What has magnetism to do with selling goods?” 

‘‘A great deal. ” 

“Pshaw! I suppose that is why Flora Johnston is 
such a success as a drummer. ” 

‘‘Exactly, my dear boy. Miss Johnston is the new 
racket. Oh, she is a dandy! She has been on the road 
now two seasons. That girl knows the ropes like an old 
stager. She sits in an ordinary railway car, and charges 
up sleeping berths in her expense account just like the 
rest of us. She walks to the hotels from the stations, 
and charges up the hack fares, just as we do. She beats 
down the landlord to $1.50 per day, and charges the 
house $2.50, in the regular old style. She can take 
care of herself, every day in the week.” 

“What does she sell?” demanded Spaulding curiously. 

‘‘That’s the funniest thing about it. You would think 
she would handle jewelry, millinery, or dry' goods, 
wouldn’t you? But she doesn't. She sells gents’ fur- 
nishing goods; and the young men who usually keep 
those kind of stores buy of her as if they had not seen a 
commercial traveler for six months. Why, I have had 
some of them tell me that Miss Johnston had a far bet- 
ter line of goods than I showed them. I don’t know 
what our business is coming to.” 

‘‘Nor I, if ladies are going on the road to sell goods. 
I hope there are not many like Miss Johnston in the busi- 
ness. Why do you attribute Colonel Osgood’s success 
to magnetism? I call it luck.” 

“Pshaw, my boy! luck is but another name for ignor- 
ance. It is all very well to say that a man is born lucky. 


THE DRY GOODS DRUMMER. II 

or with a gold spoon, while others, do what they may, 
constantly have bad luck.” 

‘‘How do you account for this?” 

‘‘Simply that some men have very little' personal mag- 
netism.” 

‘‘Please explain this matter more fully, my friend. I 
am anxious to understand what you mean; we are all in 
the habit of attributing such matters to luck.” 

‘‘I know we are; but luck, however, has nothing to do 
with the matter. Luck is another name for superstition, 
and the less of that sort of thing a business man may 
have, the better for him. Now we come to the issue be- 
fore us, that of trade magnetism. As the word mag- 
netism is commonly used, it includes luck, ‘fortunate,* 
and many other vague ideas which mean so much that 
they don’t mean anything. Success is the result of hard 
work, downright hard work, but work of the right kind 
intelligently directed, when sound judgment is required. 
Now there are drummers so constitutionally organized 
that they can do, without trying, what another man is 
obliged to work very hard to accomplish. Such a man 
is called lucky by those we have above referred to; but 
luck is no part of his talents; instead, like a trained 
horse, he trots at a speed that the other horse cannot 
easily attain, but there are always antecedent reasons for 
this state of affairs, consequently it is unnecessary to lug 
in superstition to explain matters. Trade magnetism, or 
what is frequently classed as such, is now and then wit- 
nessed, and such men do get the business, apparently 
without half trying, while other men have hard work to 
sell a bill of goods. The main difference is that the 
drummer who takes to his occupation naturally, other 


12 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


things being equal, is likely to come out ahead of the 
one who must study out everything as he goes along.” 

“You are right, my boy; Colonel Osgood is an excel- 
lent business man; he works like a beaver, when he is on 
the road. He has a handsome home and a beautiful 
wife, in fact his life has been a romance; so much so that 
a well-known novelist, I believe, is now writing a book 
from some of the facts the colonel gave her.” 

“I mean to buy that book when it is published,” 
replied Norris. 

“It may be out now, for all I know,” said' Spaulding. 

A news agent entered the car, with his arms full of 
books, which he distributed to the passengers. 

When he approached the two drummers Spaulding 
looked over the books and asked, “Have you any new 
novels?” 

“Nearly all these are new, sir,” replied the news 
agent, as he pointed to the armful of books which he 
held. 

“ ‘Romance of a Dry Goods Drummer,’ ” exclaimed 
Spaulding. “I’ll take two copies of that novel, my 
friend.” And the drummer handed a dollar to the news 
agent to pay for the novels. 

Spaulding gave his friend one of the volumes, and they 
both began to cut the leaves, and look over the books. 

“This must be the story you spoke of, Harry; for 
here is Osgood’s name.” 

“It is. The colonel must have given the author his 
consent to write the facts; also to use his name. It is 
somewhat unusual to give the real names in a novel, but 
Colonel Osgood’s experience was peculiar; and I sup- 
pose he believes he should vindicate himself in the eyes 


THE DRY GOODS DRHMMER. 


13 


of a great many of his father’s old friends, who may have 
believed him guilty, when, through the machinations of 
that wily lawyer, John Blake, he was declared guilty of 
larceny, and sentenced to Sing Sing;” 

‘‘By Jove! you have interested me in Colonel Osgood 
to such an extent, that I shall read the ‘Romance of a 
Dry Goods Drummer’ through before we reach Chi- 
cago,” said the young commercial traveler, as he settled 
himself comfortably in his seat, and commenced the 
story of Edward Osgood’s life. 


CHAPTER II. 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 

On the morning of November 9, i860, Mr, Arlington, 
a wealthy New York cotton merchant, entered his dining 
room a little earlier than the other members of his house- 
hold. 

He took up the Herald and immediately turned to the 
political news, being very much interested in the issue 
between the North and South. 

As he carefully read the newspaper a shade of anxiety 
might be detected on his fine, expressive countenance. 
He w'as a well-preserved man, with a tall, graceful fig- 
ure, though his silvery locks had been whitened by the 
frosts of sixty winters. The expression of his features 
indicated extreme benevolence. He possessed such a 
warm heart that even the street beggars knew, from the 
kindly glance of his dark blue eyes, they would receive 
the alms they sought, before asking. 

Although Mr. Arlington was a bachelor he lived in 
princely style with his adopted sons (his nephews), with 
whom he shared his wealth. 

In early life he had lost the only woman he had loved, 
and when death removed both his brother and sister, 
he determined to live for the two orphan boys left in his 
care. 


14 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 


15 


His sister had married Colonel Graham, and like the 
majority of army officers’ wives, cheerfully shared the 
fortunes of her husband, going wherever his regiment 
was ordered. During an unusually severe winter at 
Fort Scott she caught a heavy cold, and the usually fatal 
consequence soon followed. 

The colonel was prostrated by grief at the death of his 
wife, and when his little four-year-old son also became 
ill, the doctor ordered a change of climate for the sick 
child ; then the heart-broken father obtained leave of 
absence and brought his motherless boy to his brother-in- 
law, the child’s only near relative. 

Mr. Arlington immediately bought a house on Fifth 
Avenue, hired a housekeeper, and took charge of his deli- 
cate nephew. 

Colonel Graham was killed in an Indian fight the fol- 
lowing year, and Mr. Arlington became the sole guardian 
of the orphan. Four years later death again visited the 
family. 

His brother Edwin and his wife fell victims to that 
terrible scourge of the South, yellow fever, during its 
ravages in New Orleans, in which city they had resided 
for many years. Edwin left an only child, a son 
named after his uncle in New York, and his dying 
request was that his brother should adopt the child. 
A Madame Roland, who had lost all her family dur- 
ing the epidemic, brought the boy north. The benevo- 
lent millionaire, when he found that Madame Roland 
was a friendless stranger in New York, offered her 
the position of housekeeper, which she gratefully 
accepted. This lady was a valuable acquisition to 
Mr. Arlington’s household. She was well educated, and 


l6 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

at one time had filled a prominent position in New 
Orleans society. 

She was a woman who bore the ups and downs of life 
as a Christian should. 

She lost everyone belonging to her during those terrible 
days when the fever swept through the doomed city, 
carrying off as its victims both young and old, sometimes 
sparing one member of a household, but more frequently 
blotting out entire families. 

Madame Roland had been a ministering angel to the 
sick and dying during those fearful months of disease, 
but as soon as she found that she could leave her post, 
she brought Edwin Arlington’s child to his uncle. 

In taking charge of Mr. Arlington’s house she deter- 
mined to resign herself to the will of Providence, for she 
felt she would find happiness in doing her duty. 

She filled the place of a mother to the orphan nephews 
of Mr. Arlington, and endeavored to guide and influence 
both of these boys for their good. 

She nursed them during childhood through all their 
complaints. 

When they went to school she was interested in their 
studies, and when both graduated from college with 
honor, she felt repaid for all her troubles. 

Harry Graham was three years older than his cousin 
Richard Arlington ; soon after he left college he entered 
his uncle’s office, and in three years he had become such 
a shrewd business man that his uncle admitted him into 
the firm. 

When Harry was twenty-four years old, his uncle 
sent him to Richmond, Va., to purchase cotton for the 
firm. 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 1 7 

During his sojourn in that city he met Laura Gerard, 
a beautiful young orphan, who resided with a distant 
relative with whom he had had some business transac- 
tions, and in the following summer he married her. 

Richard Arlington, to the disappointment of his uncle, 
did not appear to care about entering his business house. 

The old gentleman wished both his nephews to be- 
come partners in the firm and succeed him; therefore, 
when Richard stated his preference of becoming a student 
in Lawyer Blake’s office, Mr. Arlington told him bluntly, 
“You can do so, but you are wasting your time, as you 
will never make a successful lawyer.’’ 

Mr. Arlington had judged Richard correctly, because 
he lacked the industry and perseverance that a lawyer 
must have to be a good advocate. 

He was too fond of ease and spent half the day loung- 
ing around the club to which he belonged, instead of 
studying dry legal tomes. 

Richard Arlington entered the dining room and seated 
himself at the breakfast table just as Madame Roland 
took her place behind the coffee urn. 

Madame la Tour and her daughter came in next, fol- 
lowed by Harry Graham and his wife. 

They had hardly seated themselves at the table when 
Richard, who had taken up the newspaper which his 
uncle had laid aside, exclaimed ; 

“Great Heavens! Leonard Osgood is murdered!” 

Edith la Tour turned pale. Mr. Arlington looked 
bewildered, and asked: 

Who did you say was murdered?” 

‘ Leonard Osgood,’*’ replied his nephew. 

“Impossible. ” 


l8 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“It is a fact, uncle. Listen!” said his nephew, as he 
read the following: 


“‘Shocking Tragedy. 

“ ‘Mr. Leonard Osgood, the well-known banker, was 
found dead by his servants between ten and eleven 
o’clock last night in his library. 

“ ‘The chambermaid heard a shot as she came down- 
stairs, and she entered the library, where she discovered 
her master lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with his 
brains blown out. 

“‘The girl was so excited that she fled downstairs, and 
fainted as she entered the basement. When she became 
conscious she told her fellow-servants of the dreadful 
tragedy. They immediately ran to the library, but life 
was extinct. The chambermaid believes that her master 
was shot just as she entered the room. 

“ ‘The quarter of an hour lost between the maid’s dis- 
covery and the finding of his body by the other servants 
gave the assassin time to make his escape. The weapon 
with which the foul deed was committed was a Colt’s 
revolver. One of the servants said that he thought that 
it belonged to Mr. Osgood. If this is correct, it may be 
that the unhappy man committed suicide. However, the 
coroner, when he holds his inquest to-day, will without 
doubt demonstrate whether it is a case of deliberate mur- 
der or one of suicide. 

“ ‘The widow and family of the deceased are pros- 
trated by the shock of the terrible tragedy.’ ” 

“Good Heavens,” cried Mr. Arlington, “I saw poor 
Osgood yesterday in his office. He seemed as well as 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 


19 


usual. A trifle anxious, perhaps, but what business man 
does not look so now?” 

“I fear he was embarrassed. He has been speculat- 
ing very heavily lately,” said Harry Graham. 

At that moment was heard a sort of sobbing gasp — 
followed by a heavy fall. 

Everybody started and arose in consternation. Edith 
had fallen from her chair and lay on the floor in a dead 
faint. 

They carried her up to her room. Restoratives were 
applied; presently the great, dark eyes opened and she 
looked up into her mother’s face. 

Madame la Tour bent over her, and said tremulously, 
“Edith, what can I do for you?” 

“Nothing, mother,” she replied. “Go away — and 
leave me alone. I shall do very well. ’ ’ 

Her mother and Madame Roland withdrew, and Edith 
sobbed aloud. 

She realized that all the happiness of her life had 
fled. 

She felt a presentiment of coming evil which made her 
heart ache. 

The bright visions of the future, which she felt so sure 
of realizing the day previous, had been blasted by the 
banker’s suicide, for Edith knew her mother’s disposi- 
tion too well to hope for sympathy from her in the hour 
of her bitterest need of solace. 

She well knew that her mother cared far more for 
wealth than she did for the happiness of her only 
child. 

Madame la Tour was a proud, ambitious v, oman, who 
had married a handsome Frenchman, out of love; but 


20 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


she was determined that her daughter should not make a 
love match unless the man of her choice had both wealth 
and position. 

When her husband died, and his estate was settled, 
Madame la Tour found that her income was reduced to 
such an extent that she and her daughter had barely 
enough to live, even in the most modest style. 

Her cousin Richard Arlington, the New York million- 
aire cotton merchant, pitying her misfortunes, offered to 
defray Edith la Tour’s educational expenses, and Madame 
la Tour gratefully accepted the offer, being anxious that 
her only child should receive a brilliant education; so 
Edith was sent to Miss Haynes’ boarding school in New 
York. 

Mr. Arlington always invited Edith to spend her vaca- 
tions with him and her mother, who was also a favored 
guest. 

The winter after Edith graduated Madame la Tour 
closed her house in Tarry town, where she resided the 
greater portion of the year for the sake of economy; and 
both she and her daughter became the guests of Mr, 
Arlington. She had resolved to redeem the past through 
her daughter. 

Edith was beautiful, and having the advantage of being 
a relative of the New York millionaire, her mother knew 
the doors of the best society would be thrown open to 
welcome her. 

This haughty, ambitious mother thought to herself, 
’’Edith shall make a brilliant match during her first sea- 
son of bellehood.” This clever woman knew that Edith 
would make a great social success, and therefore was not 
at all surprised at the sensation her daughter created at 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 


21 


the large party Mr. Arlington gave in honor of his fair 
cousin’s d3ut in society. 

Edith was only eighteen and life appeared very bright 
to her. She had a very sweet, loving disposition, which 
her worldly minded mother had not succeeded in spoil- 
ing; therefore her charming manners, combined with 
great beauty, made her a general favorite in her social 
circle. 

Edith possessed that rare type of beauty so seldom 
seen — golden hair, dark hazel eyes, finely arched eye- 
brows, as black as jet, a finely cut nose and handsome 
mouth, out of which peeped pearly teeth. She had 
a well-shaped head and a tall, graceful figure. She 
was considered one of the most beautiful girls that 
graced the aristocratic ranks of New York society that 
winter. 

Edward Osgood met Edith la Tour at her first party 
for the first time in two years. 

He had frequently been in her society when he was a 
student in Columbia College, for he was a classmate of 
one of Mr. Arlington’s nephews, and a favorite guest at 
the fireside of that genial old gentleman. 

Edith always held that evening in sweet remembrance. 

After dancing the first waltz with Mr. Graham, she 
looked up and saw Edward Osgood waiting to greet her. 

Ah, how well he looked! How much he had been 
improved by his European tour! she thought. 

Edward continued his attentions to the new belle. 
The next summer he was her accepted suitor. Madame 
la Tour had smilingly consented, because Edith had 
gratified her strongest ambition. Her daughter would 
marry into one of the proudest families in New York. 


22 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


The Osgoods were distinguished for their wealth and 
social position. 

Edith was to be married in the following spring and 
go to Europe on her wedding tour; but “man proposes 
and God disposes” of our destiny. 

When Edward Osgood bade his betrothed wife good- 
night, and walked up Fifth Avenue on the night of his 
father’s death, he was one of the happiest of men. 

No cloud of care shadowed his serene countenance, as 
he did not for a moment imagine his father’s financial ruin 
was the whispered gossip among the brokers in Wall Street. 

He had been reared in affluence, and he felt that the 
firm of Osgood & Co. was good for millions. 

As he opened the front door with his latchkey he saw 
the gas was burning in the library, and he was about to 
enter the room, to have a quiet chat with his father be- 
fore retiring, when Peter, their butler, came swiftly 
toward him, with a very scared face. 

He laid his hand on his young master’s arm as if he 
would prevent him from entering the room, and he said, 
in a voice hoarse from emotion, “Don’t go in there, sir! 
for the love of Heaven, don’t!” 

“Why, Peter, what is the matter? You’re as white as 
a corpse. I see by your face that something has hap- 
pened! My mother?” 

“Your mother is as well as usual; but you are right; 
something has happened. It is dreadful news — I don’t 
know how to tell you, Mr. Osgood, indeed I don’t, but 
I am afraid that your father is dead.” 

“Dead'” 

He repeated the word, dully staring, almost stupidly, 
at the speaker. 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 


23 


“Dead, Mr. Osgood!” Peter repeated solemnly; “I 
am afraid he is murdered.” 

“Merciful Heavens, man! are you mad?” exclaimed 
Edward, taking hold of Peter’s arm. 

“I wish I was, sir,” replied the man, with a sigh; 
“your father is dead.” 

“Impossible!” cried Edward, as he rushed into the 
fatal room followed by Peter. 

He looked around the library, and then his eyes fell on 
the ghastly sight lying on the floor. The blood soaking 
into the rich carpet, and here and there forming little 
pools. 

“Oh, father! father! speak to me! You can’t be 
dead. Did you send for a doctor, Peter?” 

“Oh, my poor master! Look!” said Peter, pointing 
to where his brain was shattered. “All the doctors in 
the city could not bring him to life.” 

Edward Osgood flung himself upon his knees beside 
his dead father. 

“He is dead!” he said in a sad, low tone of voice. 
“Dead! And I left him in his office this afternoon well 
and happy. Oh ! why did I not come home with him, 
and this would not have happened. Oh ! who could 
have had the heart to murder him? I must find his mur- 
derer; but what if I do? It will not bring my father 
back to life.” 

He kissed his dead father’s hands, which were now 
cold and stiff. 

“Come away, sir; remember your mother. ” 

“O Peter! this will kill her. Great Heaven! what in- 
human monster could have done this foul deed?” 

At that moment there was a loud ring at the basement 


24 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


bell, and a policeman entered, followed by Jane, the 
chambermaid, who had been the first to find her master 
after the fatal shot was fired. 

She had fainted ; but the moment that she was restored 
to consciousness she threw on her bonnet and started 
down Fifth Avenue, toward the corner of Thirty-fourth 
Street, in search of a policeman. 

Mr. Osgood’s house was a large double mansion on 
Fifth Avenue, between Thirty-fourth and Thirty-fifth 
Streets, and in those days was one of the handsomest 
houses in the city. 

Jane soon found a policeman, patroling his beat, and 
she startled him with the intelligence “that her master, 
Mr. Leonard Osgood, had been murdered.” The man 
immediately went with her to the house. As the police- 
man entered the room Edward Osgood mastered his 
emotions, and told the officer what he knew of the terri- 
ble affair. 

Peter then told his story, which the other servants 
corroborated. 

The officer asked if the body or the room had been 
disturbed. 

“No, sir,” replied Peter. “Everything is as we 
found it.” 

The man then examined the wound, and he com- 
menced to look around the room. 

Edward Osgood’s eyes followed him in his silent 
search. 

The policeman finally looked under the sofa, and he 
picked up the pistol. 

“This is the weapon which the deed was committed 
with. Did you ever see this before, sir?” demanded 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 25 

the ofificer, as he handed the pistol to Edward to 
examine. 

The unfortunate son of the dead man took the revolver 
out of the officer’s hand and examined it carefully. 

Suddenly he started, turned pale, and fell into a chair, 
overcome with intense emotion. 

It was some minutes before he could command him- 
self sufficiently to say: 

“That pistol belongs to my father. His name is on 
that plate on the barrel. ’ ’ 

“Then I am afraid, sir, that your father was not mur- 
dered.” 

“What do you mean?” cried the son, as he heard his 
own suspicions of a moment ago uttered by another. 

“That your father committed suicide.” 

“Impossible,” replied the son, still anxious for his 
dead parent’s memory; for who does not shudder at 
that awful word, suicide? 

The unhappy young man did not want to admit that 
his dear dead father could commit self-destruction, and 
he wished, if possible, to prevent such a foul stain from 
resting on his memory. 

“Well, sir, that is my opinion, and I will now have to 
telegraph for the coroner and report the case. I suppose 
they will hold an inquest to-morrow. I am very sorry, 
sir, to hurt your feelings, but everything here points to a 
case of suicide, not murder. I am afraid that is what 
the verdict will be.” 

No one had seen the white figure standing at the door 
listening to every word that the officer uttered, until they 
heard a sob of heartrending agony. 

Edward Osgood turned his head suddenly, and saw 


26 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


his mother standing in the doorway in her nightdress, 
with a shawl thrown over her shoulders and her stock- 
ingless feet in slippers. 

“Mother!” he exclaimed, taking her in his arms. 
“Come, this is no place for you!” 

“Hush, Edward! I could not be deceived. I heard 
Ann tell the nurse the dreadful tidings, and I rushed 
downstairs before she knew I had left my room.” 

The poor lady suddenly looked at the corpse of her 
dead husband, and she flung herself on his breast. 

“Leonard, my darling, speak to me. It is your wife, 
dear, that calls you. Wake up, my husband! wake up. ”. 

“Good Heavens! It has turned her brain. Mother, 
mother, come upstairs with me.” 

“No, no, I can’t leave him! See, he’s ill, or he 
would not lie there! Leonard, wake up; I want to talk 
to you, dear; don’t you hear me? It is your own Grace 
who is calling you!” 

She took his hand, and exclaimed: “Oh, you feel so 
cold! Why don’t you cover your father, Edward?” 
Then suddenly she saw the wound in his head, and cried 
out: “He’s hurt! Where’s Dr. Parker?” 

Fortunately Dr. Parker entered at this moment. Mrs. 
Osgood ran toward him, exclaiming: 

“Oh, save him! save him!” and then she reeled. 

Her son caught her, as she fell insensible in his arms. 

A stream of blood, flowing out of her mouth, stained 
her white nightdress with crimson. 

The suicide’s grief-stricken son watched beside his 
mother’s bed during the weary hours of that never-to- 
be-forgotten night, fearing that she would not survive 
the shock. 


NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY. 27 

He had telegraphed the dreadful intelligence to his 
sister, who was visiting a schoolmate in Philadelphia. 

Margaret Osgood had accepted her friend’s invitation 
very reluctantly, as she rarely left her mother, who was 
an invalid; but Dr. Parker had insisted on her paying 
this visit, as he saw the young lady’s health was suffering 
from constant attendance on her mother. 

Margaret Osgood returned home the day after her 
father’s tragic death, and her brother immediately sat 
down and wrote a few lines to his betrothed, giving her 
all the particulars of the tragedy, and sent the letter by 
Peter. 

When the butler returned, he informed his master that 
he did not see Miss la Tour, but the young lady’s mother 
sent him word by the servant to whom he gave the letter 
“that he need not wait, as there was not any answer.” 

Peter’s words gave Edward Osgood a throb of heart- 
felt anguish. 

Edith’s mother did not open Edward Osgood’s letter, 
but she did not deliver it to her daughter. She locked 
it up in her writing desk. 

She felt herself justified, under the circumstances, in 
keeping it safe under lock and key. 

When Mr. Arlington returned home to dinner that 
afternoon he met his cousin in the hall, and asked: 

“How is Edifh?’’ 

“Thank you, she is resting quietly now, but the doc- 
tor is of the opinion that Edith is going to be seriously 
ill,’’ replied Madame la Tour. 

“I am sorry to hear it. It is a very sad affair for all 
parties concerned. Poor Osgood! he plunged wildly 
into speculation,’’ sighed Mr. Arlington. 


28 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“Why, he was supposed to be worth millions,” re- 
marked Madame la Tour nervously. 

“So he was at one time, but lately, from what I heard 
to-day, he has been obliged to borrow right and left to 
maintain his credit. He was ruined by his craze for 
speculation, and I suppose — knowing that he could not 
meet his obligations— in a moment of desperation the 
poor fellow blew his brains out. I pity his family,” said 
Mr. Arlington. 

“So do I — but Edith will be obliged to break off her 
engagement with Edward Osgood, for he will have his 
mother and sister to support now, and it will be impossi- 
ble for him to marry for years,” remarked the worldly 
minded woman. 

“What you say is true, but Edith is young enough to 
wait. Edward Osgood is a fine fellow, and he will earn 
a fortune in place of the one his father lost,” replied the 
good-hearted old cotton merchant, as he passed upstairs 
and entered his library. 

Madame la Tour looked after her cousin’s retreating 
figure, and she murmured, under her breath ; 

“My daughter shall never marry a poor man if I have 
any influence over her.” 

Poor Edith was to suffer for being untrue to herself, 
and she was destined to learn, from bitter experience, 
that real manly devotion was to be prized far more 
than wealth. 

Alas! Satins and diamonds may be purchased too 
dearly. 


T 


CHAPTER III. 

THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT. 

Three weeks had elapsed since the Osgood tragedy. 
Edith la Tour had been ill ; the doctor pronounced it a 
case of nervous prostration. 

She reclined in a large easy-chair in a darkened cham- 
ber. A few weeks had greatly changed her beautiful 
face. Her eyes drooped heavily beneath their dark 
lashes ; her sensitive lips twitched nervously, and her 
white hands were clasped convulsively together. 

She started and turned her head as someone knocked 
at the door, and mechanically murmured ; 

“ Come in ! ” 

A tidy maidservant entered the apartment, and handed 
a copy of the New York Herald to Miss la Tour, saying 
as she did so : 

“ Your mother told me to give you this paper, miss.” 

“ Thank you,” replied Edith, as she took the journal 
from the maid’s hand. 

She carelessly scanned its columns until she saw the 
paper was an old copy of the Herald^ nearly three 
weeks old. 

Edith became suddenly interested, and eagerly looked 
over the newspaper, as she knew it contained something 
which her mother wished her to peruse. She examined 
it until she came to a marked paragraph, which read as 
follows : 

2Q 


.30 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ The verdict of the jury at the coroner’s inquest held 
over the body of Leonard Osgood was, that he had com- 
mitted suicide. 

“ There are many rumors in Wall Street that the banker 
was a ruined man, and that he shot himself to escape his 
creditors,” etc., etc. 

Poor Edith read no more but bowed her head, and the 
hot tears fell on the newspaper she held in her hand. 
Just then her mother entered the room. 

Ah, I see you are looking over the Herald, and now, 
perhaps, you will allow that I am right in insisting upon 
your engagement being broken off with Edward Osgood. 
You should be thankful that you are spared the disgrace 
of being his wife.” 

“ Oh, mother, don’t scold me. I feel as if my heart 
were breaking,” sobbed the poor girl. 

“ I have heard enough of your nonsense. Hearts 
don’t break so easily. I am sorry for your disappoint- 
ment, but I am very glad that you were engaged, 
married, to that miserable man’s son.” 

“ Mother ! ” exclaimed Edith imploringly. 

“ Do you think I would allow my only child to marry 
a man whose father had failed, cheated his creditors, and 
disgraced his family by committing suicide ? Come, 
Edith, be reasonable ; you must marry a wealthy man if 
you can, or go to the poor house, for I cannot support 
you any longer on my beggarly income.” 

“ I 'wish I had been born an honest tradesman’s 
daughter,” sighed Edith. 

“ Nonsense ! ” muttered the elderly lady impatiently. 

“You judge me by the rest of our society girls, who 


THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT. 3 I 

are like the lilies of the field. They toil not,, neither do 
they spin. They are as fair and as useless. When their 
masters come for them, they go ; until then they run the 
rounds of ‘ Vanity Fair.’ Mother, I wonder what it is 
like to be poor ?” asked Edith suddenly. 

“ It is like misery — it is like torture — it is like death ! ” 
burst out her mother, in a passionate tone. “ When I 
was a child I was poor, wretcl^edly, miserably poor. Oh, 
I remember those terrible days well, and I would die a 
thousand times before I would undergo penury again.” 

“ Mother,” said Edith wearily, “ the lives we lead, 
the marriages we make, are miserable and degrading. 
Do you wonder that we hear of divorces that startle 
society, when women marry for wealth and position ? 
After religion, the best safeguard for a woman is self- 
respect, and they cannot but loathe and scorn themselves 
when they marry for money.” 

“ Edith, my child, listen to reason. My hope was 
that you would marry a man whom you could love, and 
who would have wealth and position. When Edward 
Osgood asked my consent to your engagement with him 
I gave it thankfully, knowing the match would gratify 
all my desires. But now that he is a disgraced as well 
as a ruined man, I tell you that you must crush out your 
love for him, and receive the attentions of the first 
wealthy suitor you can obtain. Love and poverty may 
appear very romantic, but you will live to thank me 
for my common sense in this matter.” 

Never ! ” exclaimed Edith indignantly. 

“ Oh, you think so now. Wait until you know the 
world. Besides, you will save me from ruin. You will 
give me a comfortable home to end my days in and 


32 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

make them happy ; for, Edith, very little of my fortune 
remains. I depended on your marriage to insure our 
future. If you have no pride left, I have. 1 do not 
want to see my daughter of whom I have been so proud 
— the toast of the clubs, the belle of the ballrooms, and 
the acknowledged beauty of our city — eating the bitter 
bread of dependence. You have never disappointed me 
in your life ; don’t do so now. It is the dearest wish of 
my heart, child, to see you make a brilliant marriage.” 

At that moment there came a knock at the door, which 
Madame la Tour opened. 

Joe, the colored servant, entered, holding out his sil- 
ver tray containing a card, which Edith’s mother took up 
and read the name of Edward Osgood. 

“Joe, tell the gentleman that Miss Edith will receive 
him. Show him into my boudoir.” 

“ Yes, missus,” answered the colored man. Joe 
muttered to himself, as he walked downstairs, “ Poor 
Massa Osgood ! ” 

Madame la Tour turned to her daughter and said : 

“ My dear, act like a sensible girl. Inform Edward 
Osgood that henceforth you are as strangers to one 
another.” 

Edith, however, did not appear to hear her mother, 
for she hastily left the room and passed into the adjoin- 
ing one. 

She was standing by the window when her lover en- 
tered the apartment. She uttered a faint moan as she 
perceived the change that sorrow had wrought in his 
appearance. 

“O Edward ! Edward ! ” she cried as she held out her 
hands to him, “ I feel so very sorry for all your trouble.” 


THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT. 


33 


“ My darling ! ” he exclaimed, as he caught her in his 
arms and wept the first tears that he had shed since he 
had buried his father. After he had somewhat mastered 
his emotion, which for the moment had overpowered 
him, he said : 

“ Edith, I came here to-day at your mother’s request, 
to return you your letters and to release you from your 
plighted troth.” 

Poor Edith ! The burning blush of shame dyed her 
cheeks, as she murmured : 

“ I did not know that my mother wrote to you.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say so, for I had hoped at 
least to retain your friendship. I need not tell you that, 
when I received your mother’s letter, I felt my misery 
to be complete. A few weeks ago we parted as lovers 
who fondly looked forward to a happy future, and now 
we must part forever. If we meet again, it will be as 
mere acquaintances, perhaps strangers.” 

“Edward, we can never meet as strangers.” 

“ Edith, Heaven alone knows how I love you. I 
thought to make your life happy, and this is the end of 
all my plans. Three weeks ago I was the son of a mil- 
lionaire banker — to-day I am the son of the bankrupt 
who committed suicide, a disgraced man.” 

“ No, no, Edward ; you have done no wrong ! ” ex- 
claimed Edith. 

“ I have not ; but my father unfortunately speculated 
with money which did not belong to him. I believe he 
meant to return all ; but in a rash moment, after losing 
every dollar, he blew out his brains. The world has 
very little pity for the sons of men who commit suicide 
under such circumstances.” 


34 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


‘‘You suffer?” 

“ I do ; for now a marriage between us has become 
impossible.” 

“ O Edward, my life will be .so desolate without you,” 
wailed Edith. 

“Yes, I know that your sorrow is equal to mine, for 
you cannot doubt that I am wretchedly unhappy. Can 
you forgive me for the pain I have inflicted on you ? 
We have cherished a dream too delicious to be realized. 
You are young and worthy of love, and you will soon 
forget me.” 

“ How cruel of you to judge me thus ! ” said Edith, as 
she caught her breath and tried to control the moan of 
anguish that arose in her throat. 

“ I am cruel, perhaps, but I cannot help feeling deeply 
wounded at the cour.se your mother has taken.” 

“ Ah, believe me, my friend, my love was never 
deeper than at this, our farewell meeting.” 

“ Oh, my darling ! ” cried the unhappy young man as 
he covered her pale face with kisses. 

“ Edward, I have thought of you night and day since 
I heard the dreadful news of your father’s sad end, and 
I longed to comfort you, but my mother would not let 
me even write to you ; besides, I have been quite ill.” 

“ My poor girl, it is hard on us both. I wondered 
why you did not write to me, and never dreamed of your 
being ill.” 

“ I suppose you had too much trouble at home, dear, 
to think of me.” 

“Yes, my mother is very low.” 

“ Oh, that I could comfort you ! ” exclaimed the un- 
happy girl. 


THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT. 


35 


“Your sympathy, Edith, I will remember gratefully, 
and believe me, I shall ever mourn our broken engage- 
ment ; but I shall be with you in thought whatever may 
be the distance they will put between us. I love you, 
yet I renounce you. I love you, yet I bring you sorrow,” 
sighed the unhappy young man. 

“ And I shall love you to the end of my days, what- 
ever will happen. I would gladly become your wife 
even now.” 

“ Edith, Edith, you torture me,” cried her lover. 
“ Do not tempt me to drag you down to poverty and 
disgrace. I am the victim of this undeserved shame, 
and I draw you from it that it may not bespatter you. 
Forgive me for having disturbed the quiet of your life, 
but remember the happiness of mine is lost. O Edith, it 
almost drives me mad to give you up. I know your mother 
will compel you to wed some man whose wealth she will 
covet for you. But I feel that you belong to me ” 

“ No, no,” interrupted Edith, “ I can never love any- 
one but you.” 

He took a package of dainty, perfumed letters out of 
his breast pocket and handed them to Edith with a 
trembling hand. 

“ Here are your precious letters, which your mother 
wished me to return to you.” 

Edith silently took the letters and laid them on a table 
at her elbow ; then she slipped the diamond ring from 
her finger and handed it to him. 

“ Here is our betrothal ring,” she said in a hoarse 
whisper. 

“ Keep it, Edith ; wear it for my sake, and sometimes 
think of one who.se whole heart is yours.” 


36 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

Poor Edith was now completely broken down. 

“ Forgive me, Edith, forgive me ; 1 had to speak. 
Don’t weep, Edith. I can’t bear it. Forgive me, dar- 
ling ; they are the last tears I will ever make you shed. 
Farewell, darling, farewell ! ” 

He advanced toward the door, and then on the 
threshold he suddenly turned and held out his arms, 
and Edith fell on his breast. 

He held her for a moment, kissing her fondly, when 
he released her. 

He rushed down the stairs and out of the house, com- 
pletely overpowered by his emotion. 

The poor victim of a mother’s ambition flung herself 
on the sofa, weeping as if her heart would break. She 
felt that the sunshine had gone out of her life ; that the 
fates had divided their hearts, crushed their hopes. 

“ Lost ! lost ! ” she wailed, as she sobbed out her 
anguish. 


CHAPTER IV. 


SATINS AND DIAMONDS. 

The banker's family, a month after his death, found 
themselves almost penniless. 

Leonard Osgood had even mortgaged the roof over 
their heads, trying to retrieve his losses, but it had been 
of no avail ; every speculation into which he had entered 
had involved him in greater ruin. 

The elegant mansion and its costly furniture had to 
be sold, and his creditors were impatiently waiting for 
the family to vacate the premises. 

The auctioneer had already made an inventory of 
every article of furniture, bric-a-brac, paintings, and 
silverware in the house. 

Mrs. Osgood was still confined to her room, but, 
owing to faithful nursing and the skill of her physician, 
was convalescent. 

Edward, overwhelmed by his misfortunes, moved 
about, seemingly oblivious of everything. 

The only member of the family who appeared capable 
of understanding their unfortunate position was Margaret, 
and it was upon her shoulders that the burden of making 
arrangements for their future fell. 

She discharged all the servants except the cook, who 
refused to leave the family she had so faithfully served for 
years. Mrs. Myers would not leave her patient, whom 
she attended without any compensation. She had ex- 


37 


38 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

perienced considerable kindness from the family in the 
days of their affluence, therefore she refused to leave 
Margaret and her mother in the hour of their greatest 
need. This good woman proved an humble friend to 
the Osgoods. When Margaret informed her that al- 
most her last dollar had been spent, and she did not 
know what to do in order to meet even their daily ex- 
penses, Mrs. Myers said to her ; 

“ Sell your satins and diamonds, miss.” 

“ But who would purchase my old gowns ? ” asked the 
young girl sadly. 

“ I have a friend who buys the cast-off wardrobes of 
wealthy people. I will write to her and ask her to call 
on you.” 

“ But you don’t mean to say that people in good cir- 
cumstances sell their clothes ? ” 

“ Yes. Very many wealthy ladies dispose of their 
dresses after wearing them only a few times. Mrs. 
Behrings has shown me some robes that were not even 
soiled. She told me of one of her customers who has 
sold her several dresses that had never been worn at all. 
This lady was married to a millionaire who never gave 
her any ready money, though he always promptly paid 
her bills. Her dressmaker, to oblige her, sent in very 
exorbitant bills, generally of double the amount due. 
After the 7?iodiste had received her check from the mil- 
lionaire husband, she handed half the amount to his 
wife, who by this ingenious method obtained the ready 
cash which her penurious husband refused to supply her 
with. This same lady made a commercial commodity 
of her wardrobe, and was one of Mrs. Behrings’ best cus- 
tomers. As she seldom wore the same dress twice, her 


SATINS AND DIAMONDS. 


39 


costumes were in great demand. You always seemed 
to admire my stylish dresses, Miss Osgood ? ” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Meyers, I always wondered how you could 
purchase such expensive walking suits out of your moder- 
ate salary.” 

‘‘ Because I obtained them from Mrs. Behrings. 
This is the secret of my fine dressing.” 

Margaret was beginning to understand that there were 
many methods of living. She shuddered as she thought 
she would have to mingle in the world and become a 
bread-winner, for this daintily reared girl had never 
known trouble, her every whim had been indulged, there- 
fore it was not to be wondered at that she shrunk from 
and dreaded the battle of life. 

Margaret consulted her mother regarding the disposal 
of all their wardrobe. Mrs. Osgood advised her daugh- 
ter to sell all of their costly clothing and retain their 
plainest and most substantial dresses. 

Margaret looked at her favorite costumes, and sighed. 

What memories some of those: rich and magnificent 
silks and satins evoked ! 

The pale pink satin, trimmed with delicate silk pearl 
net and clusters of rosebuds, she had worn to Mrs. Hoff- 
mann’s ball. 

This ball had been a very recherche affair ; the most 
exclusive people were there. Her father had escorted 
her, and she remembered how handsome he had looked 
and how proud she felt of him. 

The blue silk she had worn to a dinner given by Mr. 
Arlington in honor of Edith la Tour’s betrothal to her 
brother. 

“ Ah ! ” she thought, “ where is that beautiful girl 


40 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


now ? What was her love worth ? She deserted my 
brother in the hour of his adversity.” 

She turned from the gown and saw a crimson satin, 
festooned with magnificent Valenciennes lace, thrown 
across a chair. She hastily put her hands before her 
eyes as if to shut out the picture which the crimson robe 
recalled. She saw herself standing beside a tall, dis- 
tinguished looking man, who was bending over her, 
begging her to give him at least three dances, and he 
wrote his name on the tablet that she had attached to 
her fan. 

This was a birthday party, one given by her father in 
her honor ; she was eighteen years old. Ah ! not more 
than a year had elapsed, and where were all her 
friends ? 

Where was the tall knight who had been so attentive 
to her for a year ? 

Alas ! Harry Lacy’s love had vanished with her 
father’s millions. 

They had never been engaged, yet he had managed to 
interest the inexperienced girl and win her affections 
by his subtle flattery. 

He was a perfect adept in the art of wooing. He 
could hold out his white hand with such charming 
grace, and throw an expression of devotion into his 
dazzling brown eyes as he looked down into the timid 
orbs of the girl to whom he spoke. 

His attentions were loverlike, yet, though his eyes 
pleaded his cause most eloquently, he was silent, for 
he had heard the rumors on Wall Street, regarding 
Leonard Osgood’s ruin, months before the banker’s 
suicide ; and Harry Lacy, though very much interested 


SATINS AND DIAMONDS. 


41 


in the beautiful Margaret Osgood, was too selfish to 
think of marrying a portionless bride. 

He had just been admitted as a silent partner into his 
uncle’s firm. He knew that he dare not displease the 
merchant prince who held his fortune in his hands, so 
he had deserted the Osgoods, in common with all their 
summer friends who had flattered them in their days of 
affluence. 

The retrospect was too much for poor Margaret. She 
hastily left the room and spent an hour weeping bitter 
tears of mortification, as she thought of her false friend 
who had neglected her in the hour of her bitterest need. 

Mrs. Behrings called and examined the costly silks 
and satins ; then she made a very handsome offer for 
the entire lot. 

She was an American Jewess, a keen business woman, 
but she possessed a noble heart, and she paid Margaret 
ten per cent, more on the purchase than she would have 
given to a more wealthy customer, because she had 
heard the story of the Osgoods’ misfortunes from Mrs. 
Myers. 

Margaret had a splendid set of diamonds her father 
had presented to her the Christmas prior to his death, 
and she prized these gems more than anything she 
possessed ; but she knew it was her duty to dispose of 
them in order to provide for the wants of her invalid 
mother. 

She asked Mrs. Behrings if she knew of anyone who 
bought diamonds. 

“ Please let me see them. Miss Osgood.” 

Margaret brought the velvet case containing the gems 
and opened it. 


42 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


Mrs. Behrings, as soon as she saw the jewels on the 
crimson velvet, uttered a cry of extreme delight. 

“ Oh, what splendid diamonds ! How they sparkle ! 
Take them to my friend Mr. Jacobs. He will give you 
a good price for them, my dear,” said Mrs. Behrings, as 
she wrote the address of the diamond broker on a card 
and handed it to Margaret. 

That night, in the privacy of her chamber, the young 
girl cried bitterly over her beautiful diamonds, for she 
loved the brilliant jewels because her father had given 
them to her, and she had all a woman’s weakness for 
diamonds. In parting with them, she was giving up all 
she possessed ; but her noble nature conquered, and she 
put the gems back into the case and retired. 

The next morning, immediately after breakfast, she 
dressed herself hurriedly and .started for Mr. Jacobs’ 
office. 

She walked down Fifth Avenue until she came to 
Twenty-third Street, then turned into Broadway and 
commenced to look for the desired number. 

She found the place was near Grace Church and over 
a large furniture store. 

She went up one flight of stairs and knocked on the 
glass door, which had engraved upon it in large gilt 
letters : 

“ R. Jacobs, Diamond Broker.” 

Mr. Jacobs, a man of dark complexion, with a Jewish 
type of countenance, opened the door himself and 
politely asked Margaret to enter. 

He handed her a chair, and waited for her to be 
seated before he asked her in what manner he could 
serve her. 


SATINS AND DIAMONDS. 


43 


Margaret silently handed him Mrs. Behrings’ card. 
He looked at the card and the few penciled words of 
introduction written on it. 

“ I am pleased to meet yon, Miss Osgood. Mrs. 
Behrings is a very good friend of mine ; she sends me 
a great many customers. Will you allow me to look at 
your diamonds, if you have them with you ?” 

Margaret immediately gave him the jewel case, 
though a spasm of pain, which she tried in vain to con- 
trol, passed through her. 

Mr. Jacobs walked to the window and examined the 
stones. He saw that they were diamonds of the first 
water, also the name of Tiffany engraved on the case, 
and he knew very well that the jewels had cost a very 
high figure, but he never betrayed by a single expres- 
sion of his face what he thought of them. He deter- 
mined to buy the diamonds if he could get them at a 
figure which would allow him to make at least fifty per 
cent, profit. 

“ What do you value these stones at. Miss Osgood ? " 

“ My father gave three thousand dollars for them, 
sir.” 

“ He paid entirely too much for them, miss. Tiffany 
has the name, and he makes people pay for it ; they are 
not worth half the money. I will give you eight hundred 
dollars. You see they have been worn, and some ladies 
don’t care about jewels which have adorned others 
besides themselves.” 

“ But I thought diamonds were always a good invest- 
ment and worth their original value, Mr. Jacobs ?” 

“No, miss; you are mistaken. That is the way 
jewelers talk when they sell diamonds, but not when 


44 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


they buy them. I can assure you that I am offering you 
a fair price, miss. If you doubt my word, take them to 
someone else, and perhaps they will make you a better 
offer,” remarked the diamond broker, shrugging his 
shoulders. 

Poor Margaret felt she must have the money, so she 
accepted his offer, and he handed her eight one-hundred- 
dollar bills. 

She bowed to Mr. Jacobs, feeling somewhat confused, 
and returned home with a sad heart. 

The following week the Osgoods removed from the 
magnificent mansion, which had been their happy home 
for years, to apartments on Second Avenue, near Thirty- 
first Street, and they felt like strangers in a foreign land. 
The ways of their new neighbors were strange to them. 
Alas, this refined family had fallen from their high social 
position, and henceforth their fortunes were cast with 
the children of toil. 

They had to learn that refined manners and costly 
robes do not make ladies and gentlemen ; that honest 
hearts and kind neighbors were the rule, not the excep- 
tion, among the bread-winners of the great metropolis. 


CHAPTER V. 


SEEKING A SITUATION. 

After their removal to their humble abode the family 
of the late Leonard Osgood suffered considerable morti- 
fication, as they were constantly meeting some of their 
former acquaintances as they passed to and fro along 
some of the old, familiar streets. 

Some of their friends of the past would coolly nod, 
while others, more heartless, would pass them by with- 
out recognition. 

Six months had elapsed since her father’s death, and 
Margaret, finding that the money which she had realized 
from the sale of her satins and diamonds was rapidly 
diminishing, made up her mind to seek employment in 
some of the large dry goods stores. 

She examined the advertisements in the Sun day after 
day for a week. Finally she saw an advertisement for a 
dry goods figure, and without saying a word to either her 
mother or brother, she hastily donned her bonnet and 
started for J, &; H. Hoyt’s on Grand Street, that being 
the name of the firm which had advertised. 

On entering the establishment, she inquired for Mr. 
Hoyt, and was immediately directed upstairs to the 
cloakroom, where she found she was preceded by six or 
seven other applicants for the position. 

She felt that her chances of obtaining the employment 


45 


46 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

she sought were very slight, and her courage completely 
deserted her. 

The senior member of the firm soon made his appear- 
ance ; he rapidly scanned the waiting group, then walk- 
ing up to Miss Osgood asked her if she had called in 
answer to the advertisement. 

“ Yes, sir,” was the trembling reply. 

“ Where have you been employed ? ” asked Mr. Hoyt. 

“ I never have worked in any store, sir.’’ 

The rest of the party looked at one another as much 
as to say : “ I knew it.” 

“ I am sorry that such is the case, miss, but I am 
almost tempted to take you on trial, for your appearance 
is very much in your favor.” 

Margaret blushed painfully at Mr. Hoyt’s compliment, 
which was not undeserved. 

She was a beautiful girl, about five feet five inches in 
height, with broad, graceful shoulders that tapered down 
to a slender waist. Each curve and outline of her strik- 
ing figure was perfectly harmonious. 

Her finely shaped head was crowned by a mass of dark 
chestnut hair, which shaded her high white brow. Her 
nose and mouth were clearly cut, and her dark hazel 
eyes had a merry twinkle in them. When she smiled, 
she displayed a set of teeth as white as Oriental 
pearls. 

In very truth, and according to Mr. Hoyt, her appear- 
ance was very much in her favor. She would grace any 
costume that she might put on. 

“ May I ask what the duties of the position are ? ” 
asked the embarrassed girl after a pause that had grown 
intolerable, for the group of saleswomen were staring at 


SEEKING A SITUATION. 


47 


her, and she felt her cheeks burning with mortified con- 
fusion. 

Mr. Hoyt smiled as he looked at the handsome girl. 
He asked her if she thought she could try on garments, 
and show them off to his customers. 

“ Certainly ; I can easily do so.” 

“ Remember, you may have to try on as many as 
twenty cloaks at times before a customer will purchase 
one, and frequently your patience will be very severely 
tried.” 

“ I can stand that part of the business quite well. I 
am patient, I believe, sir.” 

“ Well, then, I will employ you as our principal figure 
at a salary of five dollars a week.” 

“ Will you tell me, please, what a figure is, sir? ” 

“ We always call the lady upon whom we try our gar- 
ments a figure.” 

“ Oh, I understand,” said Maggie, smiling. 

“ Five dollars is not a very large salary, but you do 
not understand the business, and therefore I cannot 
offer you a larger sum. When you have been in my em- 
ploy a month or so, you will have learned something of 
the work, and then I will give you an advance. You 
may begin to-morrow morning. Miss ” 

“ Osgood, sir.” 

“ Miss Osgood, you are required to be in the store at 
eight o’clock. Our hours are from 8 a. m. to 6 p. m. 
Saturday evenings we do not close before 10:30. Good- 
morning, Miss Osgood.” 

Maggie bowed and left Hoyt’s store, feeling that she 
could, in a measure, be able to aid her family. She was 
a brave girl to face the world by trying to earn her liv- 


48 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

ing thus, being quite well aware that her accomplish- 
ments would never enable her to make a livelihood. 
She was a fair musician, but not a brilliant one, neither 
had she a very remarkable voice. She painted pretty 
pictures, and was able to make any amount of fancy 
work, but she did not understand how to make either 
her own dress or bonnet ; as she was a sensible girl, she 
determined to go behind the counter and learn to be a 
good saleslady. 

Maggie felt comparatively happy as she hastened 
home, and informed her family that she had obtained 
the position of a figure in a Grand Street store. 

“ You did right, miss,” exclaimed Ann, as she set the 
supper table. ‘‘ Sure, it is not every young lady brought 
up as you were could earn her own living.” 

“ My poor girl ! ” sighed Mrs. Osgood, as Maggie 
bent over the invalid’s chair and lovingly embraced her. 
“ I am afraid that you will find it very hard learning to 
be a figure.” 

“ I will do my best, mother ; I will begin by being a 
saleslady, and I shall be very stupid if I do not know 
something about the business before I am six months 
older.” 

Edward Osgood, during this conversation, had been 
busily engaged writing, but as his sister finished speak- 
ing he sighed heavily, and then said : 

“ It is hard, mother, that I cannot support you all. I 
feel ashamed of myself. To think that Maggie has ob- 
tained a situation so easily, while I have vainly endeav- 
ored to get some employment for the last six months.” 

“ Dear Edward, don’t feel so despondent,” replied 
Maggie. “ It is not your fault. We were brought up to 


SEEKING A SITUATION. 


49 


inherit a fortune, not earn one. Our dear father never 
imagined that we should need to earn our daily bread. 
I am sure you do all you can. You translate and copy 
all the law-papers Mr. Blake gives you.” 

“ That is true. I try to do what I can, Maggie. I 
would go into the army if it were not for mother’s deli- 
cate health.” 

‘‘ My dear boy, I could not spare you. My days upon 
earth are numbered, and I want all my children around 
me,” said the poor lady, her eyes filling with tears. 

Early the next morning Maggie Osgood entered 
Hoyt’s cloakstore as an employee. Mr. Hoyt saw her as 
she came in. He sent a cashboy to call Lizzie North, 
a saleslady, who was employed in the cloakroom. 

‘‘ Miss North will show you where to hang up your 
bonnet, and she will also introduce you to Mrs. Brown, 
our forelady,” said Mr. Hoyt, 

Miss North, a tall, fair girl, then entered and came up 
to where her employer stood. 

He introduced the two girls, and then told Miss 
North that after she had shown Miss Osgood around the 
store, to take her upstairs to Mrs. Brown, and tell her 
that Miss Osgood was the new figure. 

Miss North bowed in assent, and then escorted Mag- 
gie to the basement, showed her where to put her bonnet 
and shawl ; she then took the new figure to the cloak- 
room, and told her to be seated until Mrs. Brown came. 

Two girls were standing at the cloak counter, folding- 
up goods and talking to each other.* 

Maggie Osgood, although she could not hear their con- 
versation, was well aware of the fact that she was being 
criticised, but did not feel very much displeased about it. 


50 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

Miss North soon came back with the forelady, a woman 
about thirty, with a shrewd face. As soon as Maggie 
had been introduced to Mrs. Brown, the latter looked at 
her from head to foot. 

“ Mr. Hoyt told me that you know absolutely nothing 
of the business.” 

“ I am sorry to say that I do not, but I hope that I 
shall soon learn,” replied Maggie bravely. 

“ I hope so, for your sake, as you will be discharged if 
you prove troublesome. All that you have to do is to 
stand up straight and do as you are told.” 

Mrs. Brown then took a book out of a drawer and 
asked Maggie what her address was, also the amount of 
salary she was to receive. Having written down the 
replies, the forelady said : 

“ Here comes Mr. Hoyt with a customer. Miss North 
is going to wait on her ; she will want you presently, so 
go to her when she calls.” 

Mrs. Brown, having finished her directions, walked to 
the lower end of the room, and a few minutes after Miss 
North said : 

“ Forward, please. Miss Osgood,” and Maggie walked 
to the center of the cloakroom, where she remained for 
the next half hour trying on cloaks. 

So the day wore on until six o’clock, when she was at 
liberty to go home. Maggie was very glad to see the 
end of her first day. Her arms ached from the unac- 
customed hard work. 

When she reached home she tried to make a show of 
eating the nice supper which her mother had prepared 
for her. 

The next morning Maggie arose feeling miserable. 


SEEKING A SITUATION, 


51 


• She would not have returned to the store only that 
she realized that she ' must do something in order 
to support herself, and, besides, she desired to aid 
in making her mother’s last days as comfortable as 
possible. 

On her arrival at the store she found Lizzie North in 
the basement. 

“ Good-morning, Miss Osgood. I hope you do not feel 
ill ?” 

“ Oh, I have only a bad headache.” 

“ I am very sorry for you ; but I remember that I had 
a terrible one the second day behind the counter. 

“ Another thing I would like to tell you, is not to be 
too sensitive. I came here from another house. I felt 
that I must get away from there. I could stay no 
longer, I was so worried by the treatment which I 
received from the old hands. Courage, my friend. 
Try to appear indifferent to all the spiteful remarks 
you hear.” 

“ Thank you, I will try to follow your advice,” said 
Maggie, as they went upstairs together. 

Mrs. Brown ordered Maggie, for her first task that 
morning, to fold up a pile of cloaks which were lying on 
one of the counters. 

This had hardly been done, when a saleslady called 
out her name sharply, and Maggie hastened to obey her 
peremptory summons. The saleslady had a mantle 
over her arm. This she draped over Maggie as if she 
had been an iron frame. 

“Stand up straight,” said Mrs. Brown, who was stand- 
ing near the customer, who happened to be a rich quar- 
termaster’s wife who was enjoying the luxury of spending 


52 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

some of the money which her husband made out of 
“ Uncle Sam.” 

They had been miserably poor until the war broke out 
and her husband had obtained the position of quarter- 
master of one of the Federal camps. 

“ What do you think of that mantle, madam ? ” asked 
Mrs. Brown. 

“ It is very handsome, but I prefer a sealskin. Gun- 
ther showed me some yesterday, for four hundr.ed dol- 
lars.” 

“We can give you a better garment for three hundred 
and fifty. We imported a lot previous to the war, and 
have sold them all but three or four. Shall I show you 
one ? ” 

“Yes, I will look at them. I want something hand- 
some. If it suits me I do not care what price I pay for 
it.” 

Maggie put on the sealskin sack, and walked up and 
down the length of the room to show it off. 

“ What do you think of it, madam ? ” again asked Mrs. 
Brown, as Maggie walked up to her and then turned 
slowly around. 

“ It looks well ; but I do not think it fits well on the 
shoulders.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Brown, “ you see,^ it has no 
effect on this young lady, who does not carry herself 
well. Miss, pray straighten your back a little and give 
the sack the effect it requires.” 

There was a general smile at this, and Maggie’s face 
flushed hotly. She felt degraded at being transformed 
into a machine, but she thought to herself : “ Twill try 
and bear it for the sake of my poor mother.” 


SEEKING A SlTUATlO^f. 


53 


“ Oh, it sets better, now that the young woman holds 
herself straighten I will try it on,” said the quarter- 
master’s wife. 

“ Do so, madam, and then you can judge the sack 
better. It is a bargain that you cannot duplicate in 
New York for five hundred dollars.” 

“Why not ? ” 

“ Because, since we purchased these garments, gold 
has gone up considerably.” 

At last Maggie was released from her mortifying posi- 
tion, and she hastened back to the pile of garments 
which she had been arranging on the counter. 

After the quartermaster’s wife had purchased the seal- 
skin and left the cloakroom, Mrs. Brown came up to 
Maggie and said to her : 

“ Miss Osgood, I want you to be a little more graceful. 
It does not matter how you try on a twenty-dollar cloak,* 
but when you are called to try on a sealskin garment, I 
want you to exert yourself as much as possible.” 

“ I shall try to do so,” was Maggie’s brief and humble 
answer. 

Mrs. Brown nodded her head and went away, thinking 
that the new figure was a strange girl. 

After this Maggie showed the greatest courage. In 
spite of the tears she shed in secret, in spite of many 
pangs, as she thought of her invalid mother and of the 
altered circumstances of her family, she performed her 
tasks faithfully and well. 

Maggie Osgood had been in the Grand Street cloak- 
store nearly six months, when the holiday season opened. 
She worked very hard, for she had learned to sell cloaks 
as well as act as a figure. Miss North had obtained 


54 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

a better situation, and of course had left the store. 
Maggie missed the good-natured girl’s society exceed- 
ingly. More so, as Mrs. Brown and the other two sales- 
ladies in that particular department were friends, and 
managed affairs to suit themselves. 

The Friday after New Year’s Mrs. Brown told Maggie 
that Mr. Hoyt had informed her that he intended to dis- 
charge her, finding that he could not afford to pay for 
her services through the dull season. She looked at the 
forelady for a moment, and her lips quivered as she 
asked : 

“ Do I not give satisfaction ? ” 

“ Oh, you do very well, but we never retain our new 
hands during the dull season.” 

Margaret made no reply to this, knowing it would be 
useless, and well aware that Mrs. Brown and the other 
salesladies disliked her. They were glad to hustle her 
out. What was the use of struggling ? Why should she 
wish to remain since no one liked her in the place ? Next 
day she saw Mr. Hoyt, who said to her ; 

“ Miss Osgood, I am sorry that we have to discharge 
you, but at this time of the year we are always obliged to 
cut down our expenses by curtailing our salary list. We 
would suffer a considerable loss if we did not do so, but 
1 will be very happy to employ you again in the spring, 
or to recommend you elsewhere.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” replied Margaret, as she passed 
upstairs. 

That day she performed her tasks with the same zeal 
as on the day she first entered the place. At length the 
clock .struck six. She quietly stepped up to Mrs. Brown, 
bade her good-by, and walked out of the cloakroom. 


SEEKING A SITUATION. 


55 


On the staircase she met Mr. Hoyt, who shook hands with 
her. Her salary she had received in an envelope from 
the hands of the cashier for the last time. She hastily 
attired herself for the street, and passed out of one of 
the side doors, no longer Mr. Hoyt’s figure. 

She went home feeling very much discouraged, for she 
knew that the next Saturday evening she wouldn’t have 
any salary to bring home. 

When Margaret entered their snug little drawing room, 
which also served as sitting room, she found the supper 
table ready, the lamp lit, and everything looking very 
homelike. 

She went over and sat down beside her mother. Mrs. 
Osgood looked keenly at her daughter, and with the fore- 
sight which a mother’s love gives saw that her child was 
ill at ease. 

“ What troubles you, my dear ? ” 

“ Oh, mother ! ” exclaimed Margaret, bursting into 
tears, “I have been discharged.” 

“ Through no fault of yours, my daughter, I feel ' 
assured,” answered Mrs. Osgood sympathetically. 

“No, mother, I did my best. I must have given 
satisfaction, for Mr. Hoyt told me that he would em- 
ploy me again as soon as the dull season was over. Oh, 
how are we to live for the next two months and a 
half? ” 

“ My dear child, how do the ravens ? The same God 
who feeds them will take care of us.” 

“ Ah, mother, dear, your faith is beautiful,” replied 
Margaret as she slowly dried her tears. 

“ My child, always put your trust in your Heavenly 
Father, even if your troubles seem to be too heavy to be 


56 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

borne. He will never forsake you. Have courage, my 
brave girl, do not despair.” 

As Mrs. Osgood finished speaking, her son entered the 
room with a large package of law papers in his hand. 

He kissed his mother, and said : 

“At last I have obtained a situation. I have been 
engaged by Mr. Blake, as a clerk in his law office, at a 
salary of fifteen dollars per week.” 

“Oh, I am so thankful ! ” ejaculated Margaret, “for 
I have lost my position.” 

“ I am glad, Maggie, to take your place as the principal 
bread-winner of the family, for I felt ashamed of the small 
amount I earned. I now intend to study law, and I hope 
to live to see the day when I can support the family com- 
fortably ! ” 

“ My son, I am very glad that you have found employ- 
ment. We have a great deal to be thankful for in spite 
of all our misfortunes. You see, Maggie, when one door 
shuts another is opened.” 

“ You are right, dear mother, I will go and tell Ann 
the good news,” she answered as she hastily left the 
room in quest of the faithful servant, whose heart she 
knew would be gladdened by what she had to tell her. 

Ann was more than delighted to hear that her young 
master had obtained a position so well suited to him. 

“ Oh, miss,” she exclaimed, “ 1 am so happy, for 
poor Mr. Edward worried himself almost to death. He 
wrote all day and gave me every dollar he earned. He 
would not hear of keeping a cent for his own use. I 
hope he will buy himself a new pair of boots, for his feet 
are almost on the ground,” said the honest Irishwoman, 
wiping a tear of sympathy from her eyes with her apron. 


SEEKING A SITUATION. 


57 


As Ann placed the dinner on the table a knock was 
heard at the door, which Margaret opened to admit her 
friend Lizzie North. 

“ O Lizzie, I am so glad to see you,” said Margaret, 
kissing the newcomer. 

“Iran down to see you on business instead of going 
home. How do you feel, Mrs. Osgood ? ” 

“ About the same, my dear,” replied the invalid. 

“ Come, Lizzie, take off your bonnet, and have some 
dinner,” said Margaret, placing a chair at the table for 
her friend. 

“I believe I will,” frankly replied Lizzie, “for I shall 
be almost famished by the time I reach Eighty-fourth 
Street.” 

When they were all seated around the dinner table 
Lizzie turned to her friend, and said : 

“ I came here to-night, Margaret, to tell you that we 
wanted a figure in our cloakroom. I know you can get 
the place if you apply early for it Monday morning. 
You can get twelve dollars a week with the new firm, so 
it is worth trying for. You might remain where you are 
until doomsday before old Hoyt would give you that 
much.” 

“ Mr. Hoyt discharged me this morning, Lizzie, 
because it was the beginning of the dull season.” 

“ Just like his mean way of doing business. He hired 
you for almost nothing because you did not understand 
the trade. You made yourself serviceable to him by 
learning to sell cloaks as well as try them on. You hire 
as a figure, not as a saleslady. Mrs. Brown and the 
two beauties she calls her friends were retained, 

I suppose ? ” 


58 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

Oh, yes ; she told me that it was only the new hands 
they discharged during the dull season.” 

“ Of course. Yet I have known old hands bounced 
when they asked for a slight advance of salary,” said 
Lizzie bitterly. 

When dinner was over, Lizzie said to Margaret : 

‘‘You must apply for the position at Jones Bros. & 
Co., early Monday morning. I want you to get it, dear, 
for then we will be together.” 

“ ril go there. Who shall I ask for ? ” 

“ Mr. Williams. He engages the suit and cloak 
hands, as he has entire charge of that department,” 
answered Lizzie. 

“ What time do you generally get there } ” 

“ About ten minutes before eight. If you happen to 
miss me, walk right upstairs. Anyone will show you 
the suit department. I must be off, or mother will 
imagine something serious has happened to me.” 

Edward took up his hat and said : 

“I hope you will allow me to escort you home? ” 

“ No, sir, only as far as the cars. I would not allow 
you to ride to Yorkville and back this cold night. Put 
me in a Third Avenue car, and I shall feel myself half- 
way home.” 

She kissed Mrs. Osgood and Margaret, to whom she 
said good-by, and left the room, followed by Edward, 
who was determined to see his sister’s good-hearted 
friend home, as it was nearly nine o’clock and she had 
been delayed by her visit to them. 


CHAPTER VL 


THE NEW BROADWAY FIRM. 

On Monday morning, Maggie started for Jones Bros. 
& Co. She walked rapidly down Broadway until she 
came to Twenty-eighth Street, where she was delayed 
by a crowd gathered to watch a passing regiment that 
was going away. 

The soldiers had their knapsacks strapped on their 
backs, and carried muskets. Maggie knew it was an 
infantry regiment on its way to the front. 

Jones Bros. & Co. was a new firm, that had only been 
in existence about six months. The new store was 
situated only a few -blocks below A. T. Stewart’s new 
establishment, on the opposite side of the way. 

The clocks of the city had just struck eight as Maggie 
reached her destination. Before the doors of the new 
firm two clerks were standing on a ladder arranging 
some woolen stuffs, while in one of the windows another 
clerk was plaiting a piece of brown satin. 

Maggie stood first at one window and then at the 
other, with all the woman’s love of the beautiful aroused 
in her — her face flushed — and she forgot that she was no 
longer the daughter of the rich banker. She lingered 
before these attractive windows for many minutes, then 
she suddenly remembered that she had come to seek a 
situation ; so she timidly entered the store and inquired 
for the suit department. 


59 


6o 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


The salesman whom she addressed, happened to be in 
a disagreeable mood, and abruptly answered, “ Next 
floor.” 

In her haste to escape the gaze of the clerks who 
were staring at her from behind the counters, Maggie 
hastily murmured her thanks, and passed on, missing 
the stairs. 

Happily, a gentleman, who had been standing close 
by, heard her question, and yielding to his natural gal- 
lantry, came forward, and in the most amiable manner 
said to her : 

“ Please walk this way, miss. Turn to the left in the 
room above — the cloaks and mantles are then before 
you.” 

Maggie bowed gracefully to the gentleman, who hap- 
pened to be one of the partners, David Jones. He 
turned to one of the floor-walkers who stood near him, 
and said. 

“ What a handsome girl ! She bows with the air of a 
princess.” 

“Yes; she is very handsome. If she were only well- 
dressed she would be very attractive.” 

“ You believe that fine feathers make fine birds ? ” 

“ I do.” 

“ Even though they seldom sing ? ” 

“ Birds are not unlike women. Pretty women fill our 
eyes, but seldom satisfy our hearts.” 

“ You are a queer fellow, McCann.” 

“ Rather.” 

“ By the way, you have frightened all the shop-lifters 
away from our store.” 

“ I hope so. I like to feel that I earn my salary.” 


THE NEW BROADWAY FIRM. 


6l 


“You are as good a floor-walker as a detective.” 

“ Do you remember that girl whom we caught 

stealing, and you let her go because she pleaded so 

hard ? ” 

“ Yes, I do ; she had such innocent blue eyes that I 
had not the heart to have her arrested.” 

“ Well, sir, I was right. She was caught walking off 
with a five-hundred-dollar diamond ring in Ball & 
Black’s a week ago, and was sent up for two years.” 

“ You don’t tell me so ! I thought we had made a 

mistake,” said Mr. Jones, as he turned on his heel and 

walked into the silk department. 

When Maggie ascended the stairs, she found herself 
in a large room, around which were wardrobes of carved 
oak. 

Three salesladies, dressed quite stylishly, were talking 
very fast all together. 

Maggie approached a girl who was standing apart 
from the others, and asked her for Miss North. 

“ She is in the underwear department, two rooms 
back.” 

“ I will not disturb her if she is occupied. I called 
to see Mr. Williams on business.” 

“ Oh, he has not made his appearance yet. He is 
late sometimes. Perhaps Madame Effray, our forelady, 
might attend to you ?” 

“ Yes, she might,” replied Maggie. 

“ Miss Grey, do you happen to know where our fore- 
lady is ? ” 

“ No, Miss Bensel, I have not seen her this morning.” 

Maggie was well aware that she was undergoing criti- 
cism, but did not feel irritated thereby. 


62 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER, 


She waited patiently for half an hour, when she 
saw a small woman with sharp features coming up the 
stairs. 

This lady had black hair and small dark eyes. Her 
mouth was rather large, but her lips were thin, and she 
had a restless, nervous look on her face. She would 
have been a pretty woman but for the expression of her 
features. 

Her figure was small and graceful. She'was dressed 
handsomely, and looked what she was, a Parisian. She 
had been engaged by Mr. Jones to come to New York 
and take charge of the cloak and suit department. 

Madame Effra)^ went up to Miss Bensel and spoke to 
her very imperatively. 

“ Why did you not charge Mrs. Hoffman with the 
alterations on that traveling cloak ? ” 

“ Because I thought we always made alterations with- 
out any charge.” 

“ Certainly not. We make alterations when it does 
not require a whole garment to be almost made over, as 
in this case. You will have to pay for those alterations 
yourself. Miss Bensel, and I hope it will teach you a 
lesson. You American girls are so careless.” 

Miss Bensel flushed hotly, and turned away to go and 
wait on a lady who had just entered. 

Maggie now found an opportunity to speak to the 
forelady. 

“ Madame Effray, I presume ?” she ventured to ask. 

“ Yes, miss ; that is my name.” 

“ I heard that you needed a saleslady who would also 
act as a figure ? ” 

“We do.” 


THE NEW BROADWAY FIRM. 63 

“ I have called to apply for the situation,” replied 
Maggie nervously. 

Madame Effray looked at her curiously, and examined 
her figure critically ; then, shrugging her shoulders, said : 

“ Your figure, for an American, is very good ; but you 
must learn to dress yourself more effectively. You look 
neat, but not stylish.” 

The salesladies lifted their heads and tried to over- 
hear the conversation. 

“ I think I understand you, madame ; but I am afraid 
I cannot dress any better. I could not afford to do so,” 
replied Maggie. 

“ No ; I suppose not. Now in Paris we manage 
things better. We dress our salesladies at the expense 
of the house. Where have you been employed ? ” 

“ In Hoyt’s on Grand Street.” 

“ I do not know the firm. Why did you leave 
there ? ” 

“ I was discharged when the dull season commenced, 
but Mr. Hoyt said he would recommend me elsewhere, 
or take me again in the spring.” 

“Very good. I will take down your name and 
address.” 

Maggie gave her name and the number of the street 
in which she lived. All this Madame Effray wrote 
down in a small book. 

While she was thus engaged a tall young man with 
light brown hair entered the department. He had 
regular features and large blue eyes. He wore a heavy 
beard trimmed close to his face, and a mustache. As 
soon as Madame Effray saw him she raised her voice 
and said : 


64 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Please step this way, Mr. Williams.” 

As soon as the junior partner had crossed over to the 
madame’s side she said : 

“ This young lady has applied for a situation as figure 
and saleslady.” 

“ Ah ! your name, miss ? ” 

“ Osgood, sir.” 

“ Miss Osgood, I was thinking of employing another 
lady as a figure, for we really need another hand in this 
department. I will trouble you to remove your cloak.” 

Maggie silently obeyed ; the junior partner looked at 
Madame Effray, who nodded to Mr. Williams. He 
whispered to her : “ That girl has a splendid figure.” 

“ Out, monsieur, if she were properly dressed,” replied 
the Frenchwoman in a low tone. She was overheard by 
Maggie, who flushed a deep scarlet and then turned 
pale. 

“ Where have you been employed. Miss Osgood ? ” 

“At Hoyt’s cloak store on Grand Street.” 

“ A good old-fashioned house. I will send to Mr. 
Hoyt for your reference, and if satisfactory we will 
engage you at a salary of twelve dollars per week. 
Please let madame take your measure — I am going to 
adopt her suggestion — you shall have a costume of black 
silk to wear during business hours.” 

“ I am afraid, sir, that I will have to decline your 
offer, for I could not afford to pay for such a dress.” 

“ You will not be called upon to pay for it. I know 
it is a new departure, but we are a aew firm, and my 
uncle, Mr. David Jones, has introduced a number of 
new features into the business. We imported a window 
draper from Paris, and we have brought Madame Effray 


THE NEW BROADWAY FIRM. 65 

especially to attend to this branch of our business. She 
has been continually talking of costuming our figures, 
and I will at last take her advice.” 

“You will profit by it if you do, monsieur. Miss 
Osgood is dressed very neatly, but she does not look 
stylish, and it would be impossible for her to make our 
cloaks look well unless she wears a handsome dress,” 
said the little Frenchwoman as she called Miss Grey, 
and ordered her to put down the numbers as she meas- 
ured Maggie’s beautiful figure. 

The poor girl felt a cold shiver run down her back, 
for she could see the other salesladies watching malevo- 
lently as Madame Effray took her measure. 

The ordeal was finished, and she put on her cloak. 

“ Miss Osgood, you will receive a letter this week 
from me if your reference is good ; in that case I will 
send you the costume I wish you to wear, and you will 
be careful to be here on Monday at eight o’clock 
punctually.” 

Maggie bowed and bade both the forelady and 
Albert Williams “ Good-morning,” and quickly left the 
cloakroom, feeling that her life in the new place, if she 
obtained it, would be as miserable as it had been at 
Hoyt’s. Albert Williams’ face puzzled her. 

Where had she met him ? she asked herself. 

Then she suddenly remembered : He had been intro- 
duced to her by her brother at the Academy of Music. 
Edward had brought him into their box. Ah ! those 
were happy days, that had vanished forever ; and she 
was now seeking employment of a man who had hardly 
been considered her equal two years ago. 

She felt a presentiment of coming evil. 


66 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


Why should she feel so depressed ? Margaret Osgood 
asked herself. 

She was almost sure of obtaining the situation for 
which she had just applied, and she possessed the cour- 
age that makes a noble woman endure the trials of life 
with resignation ; but she almost felt .prompted to retrace 
her steps and tell Mr. Williams that she would not 
accept the position. Her old friends, she imagined, 
would never seek her ; therefore her past could never 
haunt her. Her father’s creditors had held his family 
blameless. 

They had pitied the wife and children of the late 
Leonard Osgood, but no one but Mr. Blake had ex- 
tended a helping hand to them in their adversity. 

The hour in which Edward Osgood had entered the 
crafty lawyer’s office as his clerk he felt he had made a 
grave mistake, but it was the cruel necessity of his posi- 
tion which had driven him to earn his bread from the 
hands of a man without an atom of honor. Edward 
never imagined that he was to become this man’s victim 
any more than his sister did when she applied for a posi- 
tion in the new Broadway firm. 

We are happily spared foreknowledge, or we would 
never be able to meet our fate. 

Neither Margaret nor Edward Osgood could fore- 
see that through obtaining employment and endeavor- 
ing to earn an honest living they were to become the 
unhappy victims of one of the cruelest conspiracies ever 
perpetrated. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE BEAUTIFUL FIGURE. ‘ 

The week had almost expired before Margaret Os- 
good received a letter from the new Broadway firm, 
engaging her as a “ figure.” 

The porter who came with the letter also brought the 
box containing the black silk costume. 

That same evening Lizzie North called to see her 
friend, and Margaret showed' her the new dress, and 
gave her a brief outline of her conversation with Mr. 
Albert Williams. 

“Well, I must confess that you have made an im- 
mense impression on the manager of the suit depart- 
ment. Come, try on the dress, and let me see how it 
fits you,” said Lizzie, shaking out the silk robe. 

Margaret put on the gown to oblige her friend. She 
felt no thrill of womanly vanity as she buttoned the 
waist, and sighed as Lizzie openly expressed her admira- 
tion for the beautiful costume. 

Margaret was thinking of the robes of silks and 
satins which she had sold to Mrs. Behrings, also of the 
handsome dresses that had been her delight to pur- 
chase, and have made according to the prevailing 
fashions. 

One short year had brought about a sad change in 
her condition ; she was no longer a purchaser of silks and 
satins, but a dry goods figure to show off the beauty of 

67 


68 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

garments intended to adorn the forms of more fortunate 
women. 

“Well, my dear, you look stunning ! Look in the 
glass — see, it fits perfectly. If that is the style in Paris 
I for one would not object to have it introduced in the 
New York ^dry goods stores. I suppose it is done to 
show off the cloaks. Oh, the new firm have level heads. 
Take my word for it, they will make at least a million 
dollars before they are in the business five years. Do 
you know who the Jones brothers are?” asked Lizzie, 
with a slight toss of her shapely head. 

“ I do not, for I have very little knowledge of people 
engaged in mercantile pursuits,” replied Margaret 
sadly as she thought of her altered fortunes. 

“ Oh, I forgot that you are a new hand. David 
Jones, the elder brother, was Clark & Bradford’s cashier 
for nearly ten years. Some people say when he came 
to New York from Wales he hadn’t a dime. He was 
brought out here by some of his relatives, who sent him 
to work for a large wholesale dry goods house down- 
town. But he deserves credit, for he went to night 
school and managed to get a good common-school 
education. He saved five thousand dollars during the 
ten years he was employed by Clark & Bradford. . 

“David sent for his brother James, educated him, got 
him a situation, and he also saved money, and they 
were fortunate enough to get someone to back them. 
That’s how the new Broadway firm was started. They 
have made all the old firms open their eyes at the inno- 
vations they are introducing in the business. Even Mr. 
Stewclrt could take a leaf out of their book. I know 
why they gave you that stylish black silk, my dear.” 


THE BEAUTIFUL FIGURE. 


69 


“ Why ? ” questioned Margaret. 

“Because next Tuesday is our opening day, and we 
expect a rush. They have some elegant cloaks and any 
quantity of magnificent silk and velvet jackets and cloth 
wraps. You never saw anything more beautiful than 
the new light cloth English walking jackets. I am 
going to save up and get one. I can get it from the 
firm for just what it cost,” said Lizzie, with a real busi- 
ness nod of her head. 

“ Lizzie, have the salesladies the privilege of purchas- 
ing all their goods at wholesale ? ” 

“ They have ; and if they get on the right side of the 
head of- the stock of the special line they want they can 
obtain real bargains. Well, I must be off. I shall ex- 
pect to see you on Monday. I am delighted you have 
got the place,” said the warm-hearted girl as she kissed 
her good-by. 

The following Monday Margaret dressed herself in 
the new black silk dress, and after a hasty breakfast 
she embraced her mother, and bidding “ Good-morning” 
to her brother, started for Jones Bros.. 

The windows of the new Broadway establishment had 
been prepared by the window dresser for the great 
occasion of “ opening day.” On this March morning 
they irradiated the street with their symphonies of 
colors. All the new shades and styles of spring and 
summer materials were displayed in the most artistic 
manner. 

The hour was too early for customers — only a few 
dressmakers* girls were buying linings, and a few ener- 
getic, middle-aged women were looking over some 
alpacas at the dress goods counter when Margaret 


70 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

Osgood and Lizzie North entered the store. Lizzie had 
waited on the corner of Tenth Street and Broadway for 
her friend; 

When the two girls had laid aside their wraps Lizzie 
went as far as the cloak and suit department with 
Margaret, to whom she whispered ; 

“ Don’t let them see that you are afraid of making 
yourself useful, and don’t mind what the French fore- 
lady says to you. I will pass through your depart- 
ment on my way to lunch. I am going to stand treat 
to-day, and take you around to Third Avenue to a nice, 
cheap restaurant,” and Lizzie nodded and went on into 
the underwear department, where she had charge of the 
corsets and skirt stock. 

As Margaret entered the cloakroom, the first person 
she met was Madame Effray, to whom she politely said, 
“ Good-morning.” 

“Ah, good-morning, my dear,” replied the French- 
woman, casting a rapid glance over Margaret’s figure. 
“ I see you know how to dress yourself. I was right. 
You only needed that gown to become one of the finest 
figures we have. To-day is an opening day, and I ex- 
pect we will have a great crowd,” said the forelady as 
she went to a desk at the end of the department and 
took out a small book, which she handed to Margaret, 
saying : “ Here’s your book.” 

Margaret thanked Madame Effray, took the book, and 
commenced to sharpen her pencil to be ready for her 
day’s work. - 

As thus engaged she stood near one of the counters, 
Madame Effray told her to fold all the wraps and put 
them in the wardrobe to the right. 


THE BEAUTIFUL FIGURE. 


71 


Margaret cheerfully set about her task of arranging 
mantles, wraps, and cloaks, for she was determined to 
do her best, and, if possible, become an expert sales- 
lady ; therefore she was eager to learn all she possibly 
could, as she really cared more for such a position than 
that of being a “ figure.” 

While she was thus occupied two girls at the end of 
the room were regarding her with envious glances. Mar- 
garet saw the malevolent expression on their faces, 
though she did not hear their whispered words. 

The wardrobe in which the cloaks and wraps were 
kept was placed near one of the long mirrors which 
alternated with the wardrobes along the sides of the 
department. 

The enormous room, carpeted with a red Moquette 
and thus surrounded with mirrors, looked like a salon 
in a hotel through which hundreds of persons daily 
pass. 

The salesladies moved up and down ; they never 
seated themselves on the few chairs reserved for cus- 
tomers. They each had thrust between two of the but- 
tons in the front of their dresses a lead pencil. 
Several of them indulged in rings, watches, and chains, 
but their greatest coquetry in the enforced uniformity 
of their toilet was in the careful arrangement of 
their hair, which was puffed and braided, and increased 
by artificial additions if nature had not liberally sup- 
plied them. • 

Margaret scanned the faces of them all as she busied 
herself with the cloaks, and she soon came to the con- 
clusion that there was not one among them that would 
be friendly to her. 


72 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

About eleven o’clock a number of ladies came into 
the cloakroom, and Margaret was busy trying on man- 
tles, cloaks, wraps, and jackets until her arms ached 
putting them on and off. 

It was nearly twelve o’clock when Mrs Hoyt, a cus- 
tomer, came in. She was a woman about forty, and 
dressed in the latest style. 

Madame Effray, who saw her, came forward and shook 
hands with her. 

“ I have been expecting you all the morning, madame.” 

“ I received the notice of your opening a few days 
ago, and I came from Albany last night in order to ex- 
amine your goods. I want a new traveling wrap.” 

“ We have just received a splendid assortment from 
our buyer in Paris,” said Madame Effray. 

“ Then I shall be able to obtain something entirely 
new. I always come to New York to make additions 
to my wardrobe. We never have any styles in Albany 
that are fit to wear, and you know I am very 
particular.” 

“ You have such perfect taste, madame, that I sup- 
pose it is difficult to suit you,” replied the shrewd 
Frenchwoman as she turned to Margaret and said : 
“ Mrs. Hoyt is one of our best customers ; please show 
her our new Empress wraps.” 

Margaret brought several cloaks, which she tried on 
Mrs. Hoyt, but she was not pleased with any of them, 
except one, which she said “ was too tight.” 

“ Oh, no, madam, you are mistaken,” said Margaret. 
“ The shoulders fit to perfection, but you might prefer a 
jacket to a mantle.” 

“Yes, let me see the jackets,” replied Mrs. Hoyt. 


THE BEAUTIFUL FIGURE. 


73 


The next half hour was consumed trying on jackets. 
Margaret always had to put on the garment after her 
fastidious customer, who at last purchased an expen- 
sive imported wrap, and Margaret was allowed a half 
hour for lunch. 

She found Lizzie North impatiently waiting for her in 
the basement. 

“ I almost gave you up. We have been crowded all 
the morning. I hope old Jones is satisfied for once in 
his life ; if he is not he ought to be, for trade has been 
brisk all day," said Lizzie as she tied her bonnet 
strings. 

The two girls went to a cheap restaurant on Third 
Avenue, where they had a cup of tea, cold ham, some 
bread and butter, which they ate as quickly as possible, 
and returned to the store before the half hour had 
expired. 

When they had replaced their street attire Lizzie 
North said to Margaret : 

1 want you to pass the pyramid of satins and silks 
that Mr. Wright has arranged in the middle of the 
store." 

“ Who is Mr. Wright ?” asked Margaret. 

“ He is our window draper. He was born in Paris ; 
his mother was a Frenchwoman and his father an Eng- 
lishman, and he is an artist in his own particular line." 

The silk department was jammed as the two girls 
passed through it, and there was a crush before the dis- 
play arranged by Wright. 

Light satins and silks were mixed with the cool 
shades of gray and white, which toned down the Nile 
greens and Danube blues, and rich pink silks. There were 


74 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


satins richer and stronger in hue, and below were heaped 
damasks and brocades, with velvets of every color. 

Women stood and gazed at this display of rich and 
rare goods, and then they walked into the silk depart- 
ment to examine and purchase dresses which many of 
them could ill afford to pay for. 

The afternoon was spent by Margaret in the same 
manner as the morning had been. 

It was almost six o’clock when one of the cash boys 
entered the cloakroom and told Margaret that “ Mr. 
Williams wished to see her in his office.” 

Margaret, who had just finished waiting on a cus- 
tomer, followed the boy upstairs to a large room on top 
of the building, which was partitioned off at each side 
of the room into small offices, and lighted from the roof 
by skylights. 

The young girl found Mr. Williams alone, seated 
at his desk. He arose and extended his hand to 
Margaret. After he shook hands with her he said : 

Miss Osgood, you will pardon me for not remem- 
bering you before. Your face was familiar, but I could 
not place you until this morning when I saw you trying 
on a cloak ; then I remembered where I first saw you. 
It was at a party at your house. I received the invita- 
tion through my friend Mr. Lacy.” 

Margaret turned pale, for she had hoped that Albert 
Williams had not recognized her. 

“ I am truly sorry for your misfortunes, and I admire 
your pluck in trying to help yourself. I hope that you 
will like your situation, and I feel sure, from what I saw 
of you this morning, that you will become a splendid 
saleslady. You are a charming figure, and I am pleased 


THE BEAUTIFUL FIGURE. 


75 


that Madame Effray suggested our making you the black 
silk costume. It takes a New York society girl to show 
off such a dress. I sent for you to ask you if I could 
serve you in any manner.” 

“ You are very kind, Mr. Williams, but I have only 
one favor to ask of you.” 

“ And that is ? ” 

“ That you will not tell Mr. Lacy that I am in your 
employ. I wish to forget my past, and I do not care to 
be pitied by my former acquaintances.” 

“ You are a sensible girl. Miss Osgood, and I shall 
respect your request.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” murmured Margaret as she bowed, 
and passed out of the office. 

As she entered the cloak department she overheard Ada 
Bennet remark to a tall, fair girl who stood near her : 

Don’t you think Albert Williams is very attentive to 
our new figure ? ” 

“ I am sure I don’t know, Ada.” 

“ Why, Maud, you told me he sent a cash boy for her 
to go to his office,” said Ada. 

“ Well, my dear, she is good-looking enough to attract 
his attention,” replied Maud. 

Margaret flushed hotly as she overheard their remarks. 

“I only wish,” continued the saleslady, “that Mr. 
Williams would take a fancy to me. I would get him to 
give me all the satins and diamonds I wanted.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


HER CUSTOMER. 

Margaret Osgood had been in Jones Bros.’ employ 
nearly nine months, and she had become an expert 
saleslady, though she occasionally acted as a figure 
for the special customers of the house. 

Madame Effray declared “ that she had the most 
graceful figure of any American girl that she knew.” 

During November the dry goods stores are always 
crowded by a throng of ladies who are ransacking all 
the shops to obtain gifts for their relatives and friends, 
also to purchase heavy winter clothing. The first Mon- 
day in November was destined to prove a trying one to 
Margaret. 

The store had been crowded all the morning, and Mar- 
garet was handling fur capes, a line of goods to which she 
was not accustomed. She got on tolerably well, how- 
ever, and won a smile of approval from Madame Effray. 

Margaret had just sold a handsome mink cape to a 
lady, when a voice addressed her by name, and looking 
up, she met the gaze of a pair of dark eyes she remem- 
bered too well.. 

“ Oh, I am so glad to see you ! ” cried Edith la Tour, 
extending her hand to Margaret. “ I wondered what 
had become of you all. How is your brother ? ” 

“ He is well, and is employed as a clerk in Lawyer 

76 


HER CUSTOMER. 


77 


Blake’s office. He wanted to join the army, but mother 
pleaded so hard that he gave up all thoughts of such a 
career to do his duty as a son, for mother is now a con- 
firmed invalid.” 

“ He is as self-sacrificing as ever,” said Edith as she 
took up a sealskin jacket and examined it closely so as 
to hide her confusion, because she still loved Edward 
Osgood. 

While her daughter was thus engaged her mother, who 
accompanied her, was talking to the forelady about a 
new style of wrap which a friend of hers had purchased 
in Europe. 

Miss la Tour had found a jacket to suit her, and she 
walked over to where her mother stood to exhibit it, 

“What do you think of that fit, mamma?” asked 
Edith as she slowly turned around to show Madame la 
Tour the style of the garment. 

“ It fits you perfectly, Edith.” 

“ Nothing could be better. Your daughter looks 
splendid in it. It is a very cheap jacket, Madame. 
Only three hundred dollars.” 

Madame la Tour had received a handsome legacy from 
a distant relative, who had left her three houses in a 
fashionable neighborhood, and she had them rented ad- 
vantageously, therefore she was now in comfortable cir- 
cumstances. 

“ If you like the jacket, Edith, have it sent home, C. 
O. D., and I will give a check for the amount when it 
arrives. I think it is exceedingly becoming to you, my 
dear.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! who do you think is a saleswoman 
here ? ” 


78 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ I am sure I do not know, Edith.” 

“ Do you see that tall young woman in black trying a 
beaver cape on that lady near the center table ? ” 

“ Yes ; her figure looks familiar. Who is she ? ” 
Margaret Osgood.” 

“ Good gracious ! you don’t tell me so ? ” 

Madame Elfray smiled and said : 

“ Miss Osgood has been with us nearly a year. She 
is a general favorite with everyone in the store. She is 
such a perfect lady ! ” 

“ She ought to be, as she was educated at one of the 
best French schools in this. city. Her father at onetime 
was a millionaire. He was a banker, but he speculated 
wildly, lost his fortune, and then blew out his brains.” 

“ That is a very sad history, madame. I admire Miss 
Osgood’s courage in trying to help herself,” said the 
French forelady. 

“ Well, I suppose it was the only thing Leonard 
Osgood’s daughter could do, because all their old friends 
cut them after her father’s unfortunate suicide. He had 
spent a large sum of money intrusted to him, so society 
could not notice his family.” 

As Madame la Tour had not spoken in a low tone, 
every word she uttered had been heard by Margaret. 

The poor girl’s cheeks were crimsoned with mortifica- 
tion, and tears sprung to her eyes, but she tried hard 
to restrain them. 

She made out her check and called the cash boy, to 
whom she gave the fur cape, and told him to “ take the 
lady up to the bookkeeper’s office, as she desires 
to give a check for the goods before leaving the 
store.” 


HER CUSTOMER. 


79 


Edith la Tour returned to where Margaret stood, 
and told her that she wished the sealskin jacket sent 
C. O. D. 

Margaret wrote down her address, folded the garment, 
put it in its box, and then she bowed slightly and went 
to attend to another customer ; but Madame Effray 
stepped forward, saying : 

“ Let Ada Bennet wait on the lady. Please step this 
way, Miss Osgood ; I wish you to try on a few of our 
new cloaks, so as to show Madame la Tour their stylish 
effect.” 

Poor Margaret nerved herself for the ordeal as she 
stepped forward, coldly nodded to her former friend, 
and put on the cloak which the forelady held in her 
hands. 

The young girl felt her heart beat wildly as she stood 
near the haughty woman who had ruined her brother’s 
happiness. She trembled as Madame Effray put several 
cloaks on her. 

The forelady, at length seeing her embarrassment, 
released her just as David Jones, who was known as the 
“ boss,” entered the suit department with a lady who 
was Margaret’s special customer. 

Mrs. Jardine was a tall, handsome, dignified lady 
about forty-five years old, who resided in Philadelphia. 
She came to the store once a month generally, and she 
always went directly to Mr. David Jones’ private office. 
What her connection with the firm might be no one 
appeared to know, except Gerald Flavin, the book- 
keeper, who was a great favorite of the lady. 

She always sent for him when Mr. David Jones was 
absent, which was frequently the case, as he was subject 


So 


ROMANCE or A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


to sudden and severe attacks of illness, which confined 
him to his room for several days at a time. 

Mrs. Jardine was dubbed by the employees “the 
boss’ friend.” 

For once in her life Margaret was very glad to see 
Mr. Jones, who was not a favorite with her, for she, in 
common with the rest of the salespeople of Jones 
Bros., did not like him so well as his brother James. 
David Jones was a fine-looking, well-preserved man of 
fifty or thereabout. His head was well shaped, his 
features good, and his figure well proportioned. 

He was quite bald, and wore neither mustache nor 
beard, as his teeth were perfect, and he could afford to 
show his mouth, which would have been the best feature 
in his face if it had not been for the disagreeable 
expression which would linger around its corners. His 
voice was low, and he never raised it, no matter how 
excited he became in conversation. He had a peculiar 
low laugh, which reminded his hearers of Count Fosco 
the smooth villain which Wilkie Collins so admirably 
drew in “ The Woman in White.” 

Mrs. Jardine was the only person whom David Jones 
condescended to treat with more than ordinary civility, 
for he did not possess a genial nature. Whatever the 
bond might be that bound him to this lady it was one 
that he did not dare to break. 

“ Miss Osgood, are you disengaged ? ” - 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Margaret as she shook hands 
with Mrs. Jardine. 

“ My dear child, how pale you are looking. I hope 
you are feeling well,” said she, looking anxiously at th^ 
young girl. 


HER CUSTOMER. 


8l 


‘‘Yes, thank you. I am in fairly good health.” 

“ Has your salary been raised since you came to the 
store ? ” 

“ No, madam.” 

“ What do you receive now ? ” 

“ Twelve dollars.” 

“ And you sell cloaks as well as act as a figure ? ” 

“ Yes, madam.” 

“ It is not just. I will speak to Mr. Jones about it. 
You must have an advance. You ought to get at least 
fifteen dollars a week. You are worth it.” 

“ Thank you for saying so,” said Margaret, smiling 
with pleasure. 

“ I knew your father, child, in the days of his affluence, 
he was one of the noblest men I ever met. His mania 
for speculation ruined him, but I shall never believe that 
he ever meant to wrong anyone.” 

“ Oh, thanks, thanks for your kind words,” cried the 
grateful girl impulsively, the tears coming to her eyes. 
“ So many persons blame my poor father, Mrs. Jardine, 
that when I hear anyone speak kindly of him I feel 
deeply grateful.” 

“ No one should speak otherwise of your father, dear. 
He benefited more persons than he ever made suffer dur- 
ing his management of the bank ; but it is an ungrateful 
world, child, as you already have learned to your sorrow.” 

The next half hour was consumed in fitting a sealskin 
cloak on Mrs. Jardine. 

When she found one to suit her she told Margaret to 
send a cash boy for Mr. David Jones. 

While Mrs. Jardine was waiting and talking to Mar- 
garet Edith la Tour and her mother passed through the 


82 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER . 


suit department on their way out, and Edith bowed ; 
but Madame la Tour did not appear to notice Mar- 
garet as she came forward and shook hands with Mrs. 
Jardine. 

“ When did you arrive ? ” said she. 

“ I left Philadelphia this morning at six o’clock, and I 
intend to return on the four o’clock train this after- 
noon.” 

“ Oh, what a business woman you are. You have your 
brother’s energy. I was very sorry when Clark & Brad- 
ford retired from business, for I have never been suited 
so well as I was by them.” 

“You ought to receive the same attention in this 
house, for my brother trained both David and James 
Jones in the business.” 

“ But I liked your brother George. He was such a 
genial gentleman. He resides abroad, I believe ? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. George Bradford is living in London. You 
know he married an English lady of title, and his wife 
never liked New York, which was one of the reasons that 
influenced him to go abroad to reside.” 

“ It is a wonder that he can content himself there ; he 
was such a social favorite here.” 

“ Oh, he has a charming family of daughters, and he 
occupies a handsome house in London a part of the year, 
but his favorite residence is the Grange, an estate 
which he purchased in Surrey the first year he was in 
England.” 

“ Call and see me when you have leisure,” said Madame 
la Tour. “ I am residing in the same house still.” 

“Thank you. I shall call if I find the time,” replied 
Mrs. Jardine somewhat coldly. 


HER CUSTOMER. 


33 


The two ladies bowed, and Madame la Tour passed on, 
apparently oblivious of Margaret, who painfully flushed 
at the worldly minded woman’s slight. 

David Jones came hastily toward Mrs. Jardine. 

“ Have you got a sack to fit you ? If you have not 
we will have one made to order.” 

“ Thank you ; Miss Osgood has succeeded in fitting 
me in a garment to my entire satisfaction,” 

“ I am glad that you are suited. Miss Osgood, have 
Mrs. Jardine’s sack packed up carefully and sent to my 
private office. I will have it addressed and sent on to 
Philadelphia. You need only write Mrs. Jardine’s name 
in the corner of the package.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Margaret. 

Mrs Jardine shook hands with the beautiful sales- 
lady. She then turned to David Jones and asked : 

“ Have we time to take lunch ? ” 

He looked at his watch and answered : 

“ It is only half-past one, and you will just have time 
to lunch in comfort. I will drive you to the depot, so 
you need not hurry.” 

Mrs. Jardine left the store with Mr. Jones, and several 
of the girls who saw them indulged in gossip at their ex- 
pense, as Mrs. Jardine was known to be a wealthy widow. 

Margaret was detained until seven o’clock assisting 
Madame Effray to dress three new lay figures, which 
were to be placed in the cloak department the next day 
to exhibit some new cloaks. 

Lizzie North had gone home, as she had made an 
engagement for the evening with Gerald Flavin. 

When Margaret and the forelady parted on the corner 
of Broadway the lamps were lit. 


84 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The young girl hurried along to Fourteenth Street, and 
then she crossed Broadway and walked rapidly till she 
came to Fourth Avenue, where she again crossed. She 
was going toward Third Avenue, where she intended to 
take a car. 

Margaret saw a man staggering down the block, evi- 
dently under the influence of liquor. She endeavored to 
avoid him ; but he pushed up against her and put his 
arms around her waist, and was attempting to kiss her, 
but Margaret screamed loudly, and fortunately was 
heard by a man wearing a United States uniform. 

He immediately came to her assistance, and seized the 
intoxicated man by the throat, holding him with an iron 
grip. 

“ How dare you insult this lady ? ” demanded the 
officer angrily. 

At that moment the light of the street lamp fell upon 
Margaret’s beautiful, pale face, and the drunken fellow 
said : 

“ Oh, she’s only one of my shop girls.” 

“ Good Heavens, it is the boss,” exclaimed Margaret 
as she crimsoned with shame. 

“ You have made a mistake, my fine officer — you see 
she recognizes me,” hiccoughed David Jones, for it was 
he. 

“ I don’t think I have made any mistake. You may 
be her employer, but to my mind you are a cowardly 
scoundrel to insult an unprotected girl. Go ! ” cried 
the soldier, flinging Jones away from him with 
disgust. 

He then offered his arm to Margaret, who, although 
still trembling, was trying to recover her composure. 


HER CUSTOMER. 85 

The stranger walked home with her, and left her 
safely at her door. 

As he was about to take his leave he said : 

“ I am glad I was near by to render the assistance I 
' did. I trust your employer will be man enough to offer 
you an apology to-morrow for his rude conduct.” 

“ Thank you, sir, for your courtesy,” said Margaret, 
offering her hand to her unknown preserver, and bid- 
ding him good-night at the foot of the steps of her 
dwelling. 

That night Margaret could hardly sleep, for she felt 
that David Jones would • discharge her as soon as he 
could get a pretext for doing so. 

She had heard of several of his escapades with the 
girls. And knew well this merchant prince was to be 
dreaded, for he was as unscrupulous as he was dissi- 
pated. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE millionaire’s WILL. 

** It is a great pity that your uncle had not the con- 
solation of seeing Mrs. Graham before he died,” sobbed 
Madame Roland as she met Richard Arlington an hour 
• after the noble-hearted cotton merchant expired. 

Mr. Arlington had died suddenly of pneumonia. His 
health had failed gradually for the past year, owing 
to the severe mental strain which he endured regard- 
ing his business affairs, and the keen anxiety from which 
he suffered on account of his favorite nephew. 

Harry Graham had joined the Union army through a 
stern sense of duty. 

He was a patriot and felt willing to make any sacrifice 
for his country. 

He inherited his father’s high sense of honor, and he 
told his uncle “ that his dead sire would have been the 
first to counsel him to serve his country.” 

Mrs. Graham pleaded with her husband in vain, for 
she was a Southern woman by birth, and had but little 
sympathy with the North. 

Mr. Arlington begged his favorite nephew to remain 
at home, but the son of Colonel Graham was not to be 
influenced even by those nearest and dearest to him ; so 
he offered his services when President Lincoln called 
for volunteers, and received an appointment as Captain 


86 


THE millionaire’s WILL. 87 

of one of the companies in the Fourteenth Regiment, 
N. Y. S. V. 

Since the battle of Manassas — which was fought the 
July previous to Mr. Arlington’s death — Harry' Graham 
had been missing. 

Mrs. Graham and Mr. Arlington had gone on to 
Washington and made all the inquiries that they could, 
but the only answer to their anxious efforts was : 

“ If he had been taken prisoner he would have been 
exchanged.” 

Immediately after her return from Washington Mrs. 
Graham became very ill and developed symptoms of 
typhus fever. 

The morning on which Mr. Arlington breathed his 
last she was delirious ; and Madame Roland was almost 
heartbroken, as the young Virginian had become very 
dear to her. 

Madame Roland, being a Southern woman, naturally 
sympathized with Mrs. Graham. 

As the tender-hearted old lady wept for the man who 
had proved such a friend to her for so many years, 
Richard Arlington nervously paced the library ; the keen 
anxiety which he felt regarding his uncle’s will could 
not be endured any longer. 

He waited until Madame Roland’s first paroxysm of 
grief had somewhat abated, and then he abruptly turned 
to her and said : 

“You witnessed my uncle’s will last Tuesday. I 
should like to know just what my uncle left me.” 

“ Twenty thousand dollars I believe was the amount 
of your bequest,” answered Madame Roland, rising to 
leave the room. 


88 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ The d — 1 ! And all my uncle’s real estate ” 

“ Goes to your cousin — if living.” 

“ But, Madame Roland, my cousin Harry is dead.” 

“ If he is the property goes to his wife and infant 
son.” 

“ What a cursed fool I was to leave my uncle alone 
for a moment ! ” exclaimed Richard Arlington passion- 
ately. 

“ I am sorry you are disappointed in your expectations, 
sir, but I think your uncle left you as large a sum as 
you have a right to expect. You forget that your 
cousin was your uncle’s partner in business, and he al- 
ways acted the part of a son toward the dead man 
much more than you did,” the old lady reprovingly re- 
marked. 

“ Pshaw ! I owe twice that amount of money. I de- 
pended on my uncle’s fortune, as I had a right to ; my 
father was his younger brother, and ” 

“ You ought not to covet your uncle’s wealth,” inter- 
rupted Madame Roland. 

“ Covet ? Why, woman, am I not as much Mr. Arling- 
ton’s heir as my cousin Harry ? What right had he to 
leave Laura Graham his fortune ? Curse her ! She has 
snatched the golden prize from me.” 

“ Richard Arlington, I am ashamed of you ! You 
are completely lost to all sense of decency to rave about 
paltry lucre when the man who has been-a father to you 
lies upstairs cold in death. You are ungrateful. Your 
own father left you a handsome fortune.” 

“ Which I spent, years ago. You don’t know what 
you are talking about,” snapped the disappointed 
man. 


THE millionaire’s WILL. 


89 


“ I only know too well what I am saying. Would to 
Heaven that I did not, for it is very hard for me to be- 
lieve that the little blue-eyed baby that I took from his 
dying mother’s arms should have grown up a man de- 
void of principle. Oh, shame ! shame ! ” cried the old 
lady excitedly. 

Madame Roland, if any other woman on earth except 
the one who had nursed me when I was a baby pre- 
sumed to talk to me as you have been talking I should 
open the door and tell her to leave the house.” 

“ You forget, sir, that while your uncle lived he was 
master here, that I was his housekeeper, and by your 
late uncle’s will I am to reside with Mrs. Graham as long 
as I live ; therefore I am not I'd your power,” and the old 
lady drew herself up to her full height, and hastily left 
the room. 

Richard Arlington looked after her retreating figure, 
and a heavy frown darkened his brow as he muttered 
savagely between his teeth : 

“ Laura Graham is a favorite even with my old nurse. 
It is maddening to think that my uncle’s wealth should 
go to that quiet woman and her puny boy.” 

At this moment the butler opened the library door 
and Mr. John Blake walked into the room. 

As soon as Richard Arlington saw the crafty lawyer 
enter his eyes fairly blazed with suppressed rage. 

The lawyer, who was a small man, about five feet six, 
looked even smaller as Richard Arlington’s tall form 
towered above him. 

John Blake was not a handsome man. His head was 
well shaped, but his light brown hair was thin above his 
temples. His eyes were of that peculiar cold shade of 


90 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

steel gray that showed the close observer that the 
lawyer was a cunning man. His nose was pinched at 
the nostrils, and his large mouth had a sinister expres- 
sion around the corners of his lips. 

Richard Arlington was another type of man who 
only cared for his own interest. He was selfish — 
too indolent to exert himself, except for his own pleas- 
ure and amusement. He spent the fifty thousand 
dollars which his father had bequeathed him in the 
usual manner which young men about town do who 
indulge in fashionable dissipation and manage to 
get rid of large sums of money. He was handsome, 
for his features were regular, though his head was not 
well developed. His eyes were dark blue, and there 
was a haughty expression about his mouth that his 
mustache did not hide. His hair was black and inclined 
to curl. 

His mother was a New Orleans lady of good family. 
From her he had inherited his easy, indolent tempera- 
ment. 

After the usual salutations of the day the wily lawyer 
expressed his sympathy for the old cotton merchant’s 
sudden death. 

Richard looked at him contemptuously for a moment, 
and then he abruptly said : 

“ You made my uncle’s will. I understand that he has 
only left me a beggarly twenty thousand dollars. I 
owe nearly that amount,” replied the younger man 
angrily. 

“ Come, come, Arlington,” said the lawyer soothingly, 
“ your case is not so desperate as you imagine. You 
may be a millionaire yet.” 


THE millionaire’s WILL. 


91 


Richard Arlington jumped up suddenly from the 
lounge upon which he had thrown himself when the 
lawyer entered the room, and grasped John Blake’s 
arm, for he could hardly believe he had heard aright. 

“ A millionaire ! ” he exclaimed. “ Don’t trifle with 
me, man ; I cannot bear it.” 

“You played your cards badly, Arlington ; but we will 
have to shuffle, cut, and deal again for another game, which 
we must win," said John Blake, rubbing his hands slowly. 

“My dear fellow, pray inform me how we are going 
to do so when the other party hold all the trumps ? ” 

“ Captain Graham is dead and ” 

“ Reported missing — not killed,” interrupted Richard. 
“ The information that we have been able to obtain is 
so unreliable that I think my cousin is still alive.” 

“ Let us hope that he is dead,” said the lawyer. 
“ How is Mrs. Graham this morning ? ” 

“ Her physician has pronounced her condition ex- 
tremely critical,” replied Richard. 

“ Mrs. Graham has a good constitution, and she may 
recover. She comes from a healthy family.” 

“ Why, Blake, I never thought that you knew any of 
the Girards ! ” said Richard in surprise. 

“ I did, years ago. I was at Yale with a brother of 
Mrs. Graham, and I spent one of the happiest months 
of my life at their plantation, near Richmond,” said 
Blake as a strange light came into his eyes, and for the 
moment made him look benevolent. 

“ Well, I have to thank Laura Graham for losing my 
equal share of my uncle’s wealth. She has done all this 
mischief, curse her ! ” said the disappointed man sav- 
agely. 


92 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ If Mrs. Graham dies, all right — if not, we must find 
some other way to dispose of her. For, fortunately for 
you, she has no relatives residing in the North, and she 
is a mere baby as far as business matters go. The old 
housekeeper is the one that will give us the most trouble 
to deal with.” 

‘‘ Nonsense ; Madame Roland is only a good-hearted 
old lady. She can be made to believe that my uncle’s 
last will has been set aside by the surrogate,” said Richard 
Arlington. 

“ You make a mistake. Madame Roland understands 
business much better than you imagine ; but leave me 
to deal with her. I shall put her where she can give us 
no trouble,” whispered the crafty lawyer. 

“ By Jove ! I do not understand the game you intend 
to play,” said the young man, looking at the lawyer as 
if he would like to fathom the depths of his villainous 
heart. 

“ Well, in the first place, if I can lock up Madame 
Roland we will remove a troublesome witness to your 
uncle’s will. Edward Osgood is the other witness. He 
needs money, and every man has his price, you know. 
We will have to buy him off.” 

“ Suppose Osgood objects to be bought off, Blake.” 

“ Then I will find some other means to silence him ! ” 
replied the lawyer. 

“ May I inquire if you carry out your very novel 
scheme how much you expect me to pay you for your 
services?” demanded Arlington sarcastically. 

“ A hundred and fifty thousand dollars if my game 
wins, and I make you a millionaire,” coolly answered 
Blake. 


THE millionaire’s WILL. 


93 


“ Upon my word, that is rather a large fee to demand.” 

“ My dear Arlington, you forget that I am risking my 
legal reputation, and that there exist two witnesses to 
your uncle’s last will, who may give me a great deal of 
trouble to silence, and ” 

“ Enough ! ” cried Richard Arlington, interrupting 
him. “ I accept your terms. Have you a copy of my 
uncle’s former will ? ” 

“ I have, otherwise I could not play the little game I 
intend to for your benefit. I shall have a copy of that 
will made, only your cousin’s name will not appear in 
the document. Your name will be substituted as the 
sole legatee of. my late client.” 

“ When you have copied what you want out of the old 
will give it to me, also the last one which my uncle 
made,” said Richard. 

“I shall retain both of these documents,” replied the 
lawyer firmly, looking the young man in the face. 

“ Why not destroy them ? ” demanded Arlington. 

“ Because good business men never destroy valuable 
documents,” answered John Blake. 

Arlington looked up at the lawyer, and a sneer lin- 
gered around the corners of his lips for a moment, but 
it quickly vanished, and he shook hands and said : 

“ Blake, if you succeed I shall feel eternally grateful 
to you.” 

When John Blake left the house he muttered to him- 
self as he passed down Fifth Avenue : 

“ Richard Arlington would be a consummate villain if 
he had a little more tact. He thought I would be fool 
enough to destroy those papers so as to give him a 
chance to cheat me out of my share of the profits.” 


CHAPTER X. 


EDWARD OSGOOD’S TEMPTATION. 

John Blake occupied a suit of offices on Broadway 
near Wall Street. In the main office, adjoining the 
lawyer’s room, Edward Osgood was busily engaged 
writing at a desk. 

Few of his former acquaintances would have recog- 
nized the late banker’s son in the person of the lawyer’s 
clerk, for Edward’s appearance had changed since he 
lost the distinguished social position which he had 
occupied. He looked pale and careworn as he bent 
over the desk, absorbed in his occupation ; and he did 
not hear the door open until the gentleman who had 
entered walked up to where he sat and said : 

“ I wish to see Mr. Blake.” 

The young man politely laid aside his pen, bowed, and 
touched the handbell which stood on his desk. An 
office boy came out of a small side room at the further 
end of the office. 

“ Is Mr. Blake in his room ? ” asked Edward, address- 
ing the office boy. 

“ I think so, sir.” 

“ Is he disengaged ? ” 

“ I do not know, sir.” 

“ Take him this gentleman’s card.” 


94 


EDWARD OSGOOD’S TEMPTATION. 


95 


“ Yes, sir.” 

The boy passed into Mr. Blake’s private office, and 
returned in a moment. 

“ Mr. Blake says you may come in, sir.” 

The gentleman went into the private room, and 
Johnny looked after him admiringly. 

“ Do you know who that is ? ” he asked Edward. 

“No ; I did not look at the name on his card,” re- 
plied Edward without looking up from the paper upon 
which he was writing. 

“ He’s a doctor. He comes here sometimes.” 

“ Go and do the copying I gave you,” said the clerk. 
“ I shall want it this afternoon.” 

“ I’m off, sir. I’ll have those papers ready for you 
before five o’clock,” answered the light-hearted boy as 
he disappeared into the small apartment which he occu- 
pied during business hours. 

The boy was right. The man who had entered the 
lawyer’s private office was a noted physician, his spe- 
cialty being mental diseases. 

“ Ah, doctor ! how are you ? ” asked Mr. Blake, ex- 
tending his hand, and offering his visitor a chair. 

“ Very well, thank you ! ” replied Dr. Hamilton as 
he sat down and lit a cigar which the lawyer handed 
to him. 

John Blake looked at his visitor in silence for a mo- 
ment and thought : 

“ Here’s the very man I may need to take Madame 
Roland off my hands.” 

He turned to the physician, and .said in an offhand 
tone : 

“ Doctor, I think I have a little job in your line.” 


g6 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ I shall be delighted to attend to any matter that you 
may intrust me with.” 

“ There is a wealthy client of mine who is thinking of 
sending a poor woman who is a distant relative of his to 
a private asylum where she can be properly taken care 
of. I think I can prevail upon him to patronize your 
establishment.” 

“You are very kind, Mr. Blake. Can you tell me 
what is the particular form of her insanity ? ” 

“ I believe she imagines that she witnessed a will, 
and that she is the only witness to the document. The 
poor woman was once very wealthy, but lost her 
fortune some years ago through the failure of a sugar 
firm in which she had her money invested.” 

“ Well, if your wealthy client will pay me twenty-five 
dollars a week I will receive her as a patient ; providing, 
of course, he obtains the two doctors’ certificates neces- 
sary to have her admitted into an asylum,” replied the 
doctor. And then he abruptly said : “ I called to see 
how that suit of mine terminated.” 

“ A verdict in your favor was given by the jury. I 
told you that we would win the case, for the property 
had been damaged to a considerable extent by the 
heavy cases of goods which Harper kept in the lofts.” 

“ I am very glad you won the case for me. I will put 
the warehouse in good order and sell it, as it has never 
proved a paying investment.” 

“That is about the best thing you can do, doctor,” 
said Mr. Blake as he went to the threshold of the door 
of his main office with his client and bid him good-by. 

He closed the door and walked over to Edward Os- 
good’s desk. 


EDWARD OSGOOD’S TEMPTATION. 97 

“Was Mr. Mitchell impatient at my delaying his case 
until next term ? ” 

“ He was ; he will call on you Wednesday,” he said. 

“You had better write him, and ask him to call on 
Tuesday, as I have to attend Mr. Arlington’s funeral 
on Wednesday. You were one of the witnesses to the 
last will which my late client made.” 

“ I was, Mr. Blake.” 

“ Well, you would oblige me exceedingly by forget- 
ting that you ever saw such a document,” said the at- 
torney coolly. 

Edward Osgood dropped his pen, and turning around 
on his high stool, looked down into the lawyer’s face for 
a moment as if he were unable to comprehend the mean- 
ing of what he had heard ; the young man was for the 
time being paralyzed by Blake’s audacity. 

“You will do me this favor ? ” pleaded the latter as he 
laid a trembling hand on Osgood’s arm. 

The young man saw the eager light in Blake’s eyes, 
and observed that his thin lips twitched nervously as he 
waited for the reply. 

“What do you take me for, sir?” demanded Edward 
indignantly as his handsome face flushed. 

“ For a sensible man, who will be ten thousand dol- 
lars richer if he does not exercise his memory too faith- 
fully.” 

“ Mr. Blake, you have for once made a mistake in 
trying to bribe me to act dishonestly. I cannot aid you 
in any such villainous transaction.” 

“ You are wonderfully honest, considering who you 
are,” sneered his employer. 

“ As you value your life, John Blake, do not speak of 


98 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER, 

my dead father,” thundered Edward in a voice made 
hoarse by suppressed rage. 

The wily Blake was utterly dumfounded, for he had 
not thought it possible that a man in his clerk’s circum- 
stances would refuse ten thousand dollars. 

John Blake was unscrupulous where his own interest 
was concerned. 

He had determined to appropriate the deceased cot- 
ton merchant’s wealth for his own aggrandizement, 
because he knew he could make Richard Arlington do 
as he wished, once he got him in his power. 

“ I am not aware that I am asking you to do anything 
so remarkably dishonest,” said he to Edward. ‘‘ 1 
merely wish you not to say anything about the will which 
you witnessed last Wednesday, for Captain Graham is 
dead, and I think it is an act of injustice to allow Mrs. 
Graham and her infant son to take possession of the es- 
tate which belongs by right to Richard Arlington. My 
late client was undoubtedly induced to make this strange 
will.” 

Edward Osgood gave the attorney a peculiar look as 
he said : 

“ I comprehend your game. You want your prot^gd^ 
Arlington, to inherit this fortune that he may share it 
with you.” 

“You are mistaken. I merely wish to avoid useless 
litigation, as Richard intends to lay his case before 
the surrogate. Osgood, will you oblige me in this 
matter ? ” 

“ No, sir, I cannot comply with your request. If Mr. 
Arlington had wished to make his nephew his sole heir 
he would have done so.” 


EDWARD OSGOOd's TEMPTATION. 


99 


“ But, my dear fellow, he was influenced against Mr. 
Richard Arlington.” 

“ That is only your surmise. Mr. Blake, if your client 
can break the will let him do so. I will not be tempted 
to do a dishonorable act, and aid you to defraud the 
rightful heirs.” 

‘‘ You appear to forget that I was the only friend you 
had after your father’s failure and suicide,” was Blake’s 
sarcastic rejoinder as a dark frown of baffled rage dis- 
torted his face. 

“ Would to Heaven,” exclaimed Osgood in a voice 
that trembled from emotion, “ I could forget that it 
was your hand which gave me the means to pay 
for the bread which I ate after I had drunk the cup of 
poverty to its bitterest dregs ! I understand the mean- 
ing of your apparent generosity, Mr. Blake. You would 
not have taken me into your office if you had not thought 
I would become a pliant tool in your hands.” 

“ Perhaps my terms do not suit you. We will say 
fifteen thousand and call it a bargain. Eh ? ” 

“ Not if you were to offer me thrice that amount would 
I consent to aid you in such a damnable transaction,” 
answered Edward Osgood. 

“ You will live to repent having refused my offer,’* 
said the lawyer as he looked at the young man with an 
expression 'Of mingled hate and rage. 

‘‘ Mr. Blake,” said Edward, getting off the chair 
on which he sat, I cannot serve you any longer and 
retain my self-respect as an honest man. I warn you 
should you dare to substitute Mr. Arlington’s former 
will for the one which I witnessed I will expose 
you ! ” 


lOO ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The young man went to the closet where he kept his 
hat, and, taking it down, walked out of the lawyer’s 
office. 

John Blake looked amazed, but shrugged his shoulders 
and muttered : 

“ Forewarned, forearmed. I’ll teach you a lesson, 
Osgood. You will not be the first troublesome witness 1 
have put out of the way.” Saying this, he walked 
toward the closet, the door of which was standing open, 
and he caught sight of the overcoat which his clerk 
had forgotten to put on. 

Blake smiled, rubbed his hands softly, and taking a 
United States bond out of the safe in his private office, 
returned to the m.ain one. He shut the door which com- 
municated with the adjoining apartment, where Johnny 
Ryan was, went to the closet, and placed the bond in 
the pocket of Osgood’s overcoat. 

He then took up his own hat, and, telling the office 
boy to close at five o’clock, hastily took his departure. 

Old Trinity’s clock had just struck five when Johnny 
Ryan came into the main office and was surprised to find 
it unoccupied. 

“ I guess the governor and Mr. Osgood had a row, 
and he’s left, but it’s none of my funeral,” said Johnny 
aloud as he commenced to put away the books and 
fasten the windows. 

Just then Edward Osgood entered ; he looked flushed, 
for he had walked fast. 

“I was afraid, Johnny, you would have the office 
locked up before I got back. I forgot my overcoat.” 

I am glad you were in time to catch me, sir.” 

“So am I, for I would not care to come when Mr. 


EDWARD OSGOOD'S TEMPTATION. 


TOI 


Blake was in. I have left him. Come and see me when 
you have time/' said Osgood, extending his hand to the 
lad. 

“I hope, sir, you will get another position soon.” 

John Blake, who had only gone to the corner, returned 
to the building in which he had his office, accompanied 
by a policeman. 

Edward Osgood was just going out of the lawyer’s 
office as Mr. Blake entered. The latter turned to the 
policeman, and said : 

“ It is fortunate that my late clerk is here, so that 5^011 
may clear up the mystery of the missing bond.” 

The young man’s pale face flushed hotly, and his 
indignation at the rascally lawyer’s base insinuation com- 
pletely overwhelmed him for the moment. He was 
silent, and the officer, attributing his confusion to guilt, 
said : 

“ Mr. Blake has been robbed.” 

“ Robbed ! ” exclaimed Edward. 

“ He misses a United States bond which he put in his 
safe this morning. As you and the boy had charge of 
the office during Mr. Blake’s absence, I shall be obliged 
to search you,” said the officer. 

“You must be mad ! I am poor, but honest, thank 
Heaven. You are welcome to examine me. I shall not 
object to your doing so. I will show you the contents 
of my pockets myself,” said the young man as he took 
his handkerchief and a bunch of keys from one of his 
coat pocket. 

He turned it inside out, but there was no bond there. 
He then put his hand into the other pocket, and pulled 
out the missing bond. 


102 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ Great Heaven ! How came this paper in my 
pocket ? ” said Edward sternly. 

“You will have to explain that to the judge. You 
are my prisoner, sir,” said the officer, putting his hand 
on Osgood’s shoulder. 

Johnny Ryan looked as if he had been paralyzed. 
He could not believe that the clerk was a thief. 

“ I am sorry this has happened, Osgood, for hitherto 
you have proved honest,' said Blake, looking triumph- 
antly at the man he was endeavoring to ruin. 

“ How came that paper in my pocket ? ” cried Edward, 
breaking away from the policeman’s detaining hand and 
looking down into the lawyer’s face. 

John Blake was silent. He was afraid of the physical 
strength of the man who stood over him, his eyes blaz- 
ing with indignant rage. 

“ I see it all, John Blake. I left my coat hanging up 
in that closet and forgot it. You wished to get rid of a 
troublesome witness, and you have got rid of him, but 
remember, unless I die in prison, that I shall one day 
be free, and the day that I am, beware ! ” 

“ Come, my man, no threats. I will have to report all 
you say, and you are not bettering your case. Come 
with me quietly and I will not clasp the bracelets on 
you.” 

“Curse you, John Blake! You area cowardly vil- 
lain ! ” exclaimed the arrested man. Then, turning to 
Johnny Ryan, he added. “ My lad, go and tell my 
sister of my arrest. Poor girl, it will break her heart 
and kill my poor invalid mother. Tell them, Johnny, / 
0771 iimocent ! ” 

“ I will, Mr. Osgood. Can I do anything else for 


EDWARD OSGOOD’s TEMPTATION. 


lo.-? 


you ? ” asked the lad as he wiped away the tears he could 
not keep from raining down his face. 

No, Johnny, for after to-night honest men will de- 
spise the thief Osgood, for I know the law — the cold, 
pitiless law will condemn me on circumstantial evidence. 
Heaven knows I am not guilty, but I am not the first 
man who has had his character blackened by wretches 
who wished to get him out of the way.” 

“I say, old boss, can’t you let Mr. Osgood off, and for 
once’ in your mean life behave like a man ?” asked the 
office boy, turning suddenly to the lawyer. 

But Mr. Blake made no reply ; he merely shook his 
head. 

“ You don’t see it, don’t you ? Well, Osgood, you’ll 
get out of prison one of these days, and if you want 
someone to help you thrash Blake say the word and 
I’ll lend you my fists ” 

“ See here, young fellow, I’ll take you in charge if 
you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head,” said the 
policeman, interrupting Johnny. 

“ No, you won’t,” answered he as he turned to the 
lawyen “You can lock up your own office; I won’t 
work for you another day, or you’ll be having me ar- 
rested next.” 

The officer tightened his hold on Edward Osgood, 
and said : 

“ Come, my man, we must be moving it is a long 
walk to the Tombs.” 

“ I am ready, sir,” replied Edward as he suddenly 
faced the lawyer, and, raising his right hand solemnly, 
said : “ If I live I will avenge my wrongs, prove my inno- 
cence, and expose your villainy. I swear it.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE WHOLESALE DRUMMER. 

The day on which Edward Osgood was arrested' 
Margaret arose with a nervous headache, having slept 
but little the previous night. She expected she would 
be discharged by David Jones, who would thus revenge 
himself on her for the rough handling which he had 
received the previous evening for insulting her. 

When the young officer knocked down the merchant 
the latter fell heavily on the sidewalk, and his cheek 
struck the curbstone with such force that he thought 
for the moment his jaw was broken. 

A man passing by assisted the prostrate would-be 
gallant to rise, and kindly walked with him to Union 
Square, where David Jones hired a cab and drove home. 

He was unable to rise from his bed the next morning. 
His left cheek was black and blue and his left eye dread- 
fully swollen. 

Margaret would have trembled had she overheard his 
fearful oath of vengeance which he registered against 
her when he realized that his injuries would confine him 
to his apartments for at least a week. 

David Jones would only have been too pleased to dis- 
charge his beautiful saleslady, but he did not dare to 
offend Mrs. Jardine, who had openly expressed her in- 
terest in Margaret, and he hated the young girl all the 
more on that account. 

104 


, THE WHOLESALE DRUMMER. I05 

Margaret had been haunted all the forenoon by a 
gloomy presentiment of coming trouble. 

As she was trying on a cloak to show the effect to one 
of her customers, she overheard Mr. James Jones say to 
Madame Effray : 

“ My brother met with a severe accident last night, and 
he will not be able to come to the store for at least a week.” 

Margaret turned pale as she made out the check for 
the garment she had just sold, for she realized that her 
chivalric protector had dealt with the merchant more 
severely than she had thought. She walked toward the 
center table with her mind full of gloomy anticipations 
to replace a pile of wraps which had been flung care- 
lessly on the table by Ada Bennet, who was waiting on 
a customer. Margaret put them back in the wardrobe. 
While she was thus employed she saw Mr. Harry 
Lacy enter the cloak department with Mr. Williams. 
They walked to one of the windows and proceeded to 
examine a piece of dark crimson satin. 

Mr. Williams stopped to make a remark to Madame 
Effray, and then he walked down the room conversing 
with Harry Lacy. 

He saw Margaret, and endeavored to attract the 
attention of the man at his side to a cloak on one of the 
wax figures near the center door, for he remembered the 
promise which he had made to her. 

He did not wish Lacy to recognize her ; but his pre- 
caution was unavailing, as the drummer had noticed 
Margaret already. 

He started and came toward her. 

“ Surely I cannot be mistaken. This is Miss Os- 
good ?” said he, extending his hand. 


Io6 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The beautiful girl colored, and her heart throbbed 
violently. 

What a tide of joyous feeling swept through her 
veins ! She felt she had, perhaps, wronged the man 
who now stood before her with an expression of evident 
pleasure and surprise blended on his face. She touched 
the outstretched hand, but she could not speak — her 
heart was too full. 

“ I often wondered what had become of you. Miss Os- 
good. I asked for your address from several of your 
old friends, but no one could give me any information 
regarding you.” 

“ I do not care to meet any of my old friends, Mr. 
Lacy, for I am now a bread winner, and few of my 
former circle of acquaintances would care to continue 
the friendship. I am too proud, Mr. Lacy, to ask any 
favors of them.” 

“ You deserve credit for your pluck and energy. I 
tru.st, however, that you will permit me to call on you ? ” 

“ No, Mr. Lacy. It is impossible. My mother is an 
invalid, and we are no longer in a position to receive 
anyone,” replied Margaret firmly. She intuitively felt 
that the man before her was not sincere in his profes- 
sions of friendship. 

“ I am sorry. Miss Osgood, that you exclude me from 
your fireside. I would like to meet your brother again,” 
he said in a low, reproachful tone. 

“You can see Edward at his place of business. He 
is a clerk in Mr. John Blake’s law office on Broadway 
near Wall Street,” answered Margaret briefly and coldl}^ 

To the infinite relief of the young saleslady two 
customers entered the cloakroom. 


THE WHOLESALE DRUMMER. 107 

“ Please excuse me, Mr. Lacy,” she said, “ I must wait 
on Mrs. Livingston and her friend. 

She rushed past him hastily, and went forward to greet 
the newcomers. 

Harry Lacy felt cut that Margaret had not been more 
flattered by his recognition of her. 

Her independent spirit was not appreciated by the 
young dry goods drummer, and he turned and went 
toward Albert Williams, who was impatiently waiting 
for him. He did not speak until he reached the private 
office, when he said : “ How did you come to hire Mar- 
garet Osgood as one of your saleswomen ? ” 

“ Through one of the girls in the underwear depart- 
ment. Miss North, hearing we needed a figure, recom- 
mended Miss Osgood, who applied for the place, and we 
engaged her.” 

“ You showed your good taste. She is a beautiful girl ; 
I remember her dressed in costly silks, with diamonds 
flashing from her ears ; she was a belle that winter, and 
everyone was anxious to catch a glimpse of her features 
as she drove up the avenue in her father’s handsome 
equipage. By Jove ! what a come-down for her ! She 
is as proud as Lucifer still.” 

“ I once thought you had some intentions in that 
quarter, Lacy. Come, own up, old man.” 

‘‘ You are right. I should have liked to have indulged 
in the luxury of a wife — of the sort that Margaret Osgood 
would have made if her father had not made such an 
awful mess of things. I should like to have a flirtation 
with the girl now, but she wouldn’t even consent to my 
calling on her. 

“ Miss Osgood is a sensible girl, Lacy ; I admire and 


Io8 -ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

respect her for her conduct,” replied Albert Williams 
warmly. 

Mr. Lacy made no further remarks regarding Mar- 
garet, as he suddenly remembered why he had called on 
one of the buyers of Jones Bros. 

“ Do you intend to take those cases of black satins off 
our hands ? ’’ 

“ I shall have to consult my uncle James ; he buys all 
our silks and satins. I only buy the cloaks, wraps, and 
suits. We have another man to. buy the furs. I do not 
understand that line of goods, you know,” replied 
Albert. 

“Well, if you are going to consult Mr. James Jones 
why not advise him to purchase twenty cases of satins 
which I bought at auction yesterday ? They were sold 
to pay the duty on them. Knapp & Holmes will sell 
them for a small advance on the original price and give a 
credit of thirty days. You could not import these goods 
for the same money, especially when gold has gone up to 
one hundred and forty,” said Harry Lacy. 

At this moment Mr. James Jones, the genial younger 
brother, entered the office. 

“ Hello, Lacy ! ” he cried, shaking hands with the 
wholesale drummer. “ What are the wonderful bargains 
you have to offer us to-day ? ” 

Lacy looked up into the frank, debonair countenance 
of the man who addressed him, and smiled half sarcas- 
tically as he answered : 

“ I have twenty cases of satins that I bought at a 
forced customhouse sale — sold for duty to Uncle Sam, 
my dear sir — and they are the greatest bargain ever 
offered since the war broke out ! ” 


THE WHOLESALE DRUMMER. 


109 


“ What could we retail them at, Lacy ?” asked James 
/Jones. 

“ Some of them at a dollar a yard, Think of it, my 
dear sir, satin rhadames for a dollar — satin duchesse and 
merveilleux for a dollar twenty cents ! ” 

“ Have you any samples of the goods about you?” in- 
quired Mr. Jones, interested in spite of himself, though 
he was very careful not to let Lacy see that he thought 
satins at such a price were an unheard of bargain, for the 
wholesale drummer had the reputation of being one of 
the keenest men in the business. He certainly man- 
aged to dispose of any line of goods which he might 
undertake to sell. 

James Jones took the samples of the satins which were 
handed to him to the light and examined them. 

“ Humph ! they look like first-class goods.” 

“ They are just exactly what I represent them to 
be. I warrant them to be the best class of French 
goods.” 

“Williams, just take these samples into your dark 
room and try them.” 

“ I will. Come, we’ll all go downstairs and try 
them.” 

Down they went, James Jones leading the way to a 
small room, with dark purple velvet hangings. There 
was a table, several chairs, and a lighted chandelier in 
the center. 

James Jones examined the different shades of satin 
with a critical eye ; he felt the quality, pulled the threads 
of the goods apart, and, apparently satisfied with his 
scrutiny, said : 

“ I will take your cases of satin.” 


I lO 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


It was six o’clock when Harry Lacy left the store, and 
he lingered on the corner of Ninth Street and Broadway 
until he saw Margaret Osgood and Lizzie North cross 
the street. 

He raised his hat to them, and Margaret returned the 
salute coldly. 

The drummer did not appear to think his presence 
unwelcome, for he turned around and joined the young- 
girls, saying : 

“ May I have the pleasure of escorting you home. Miss 
Osgood ?” 

Mr. Lacy, I am no longer a New York society girl, 
and I prefer not to have you seen walking with me, as I 
do not care to be made the subject of gossip in the 
store.” 

“What nonsense ! You are still a charming girl, and 
I am delighted to renew our acquaintance.” 

“ Mr. Lacy, I beg you will not persist in your present 
determination.” 

“I shall most assuredly. Miss Osgood.” 

“Then I shall have to appeal to my brother and ask 
him to protect me.” 

The unfortunate girl did not know her brother was at 
that moment a prisoner on his way to the Tombs. 

The girls turned down Tenth Street, followed in silence 
by Lacy. 

Lizzie North’s face flushed hotly with the pent-up 
indignation she felt, but which she did not care to express, 
as she was not acquainted with the drummer. When 
they reached Third Avenue Lizzie put up her hand to 
stop the approaching car. 

Harry Lacy endeavored to assist the salesladies as 


THE WHOLESALE DRUMMER. 


I I I 


{hey entered the car, but neither of them noticed him, 
and Margaret would not return his bow because she felt 
he had no right to thrust his unwelcome presence on 
her and her friend. 

The drummer scowled darkly as he turned on his 
heel and rapidly retraced his steps toward Broadway, 
muttering : 

“ I will live to drag you down, my fine lady, lower 
than you are now.” 

He kept his word, for he proved one of Margaret’s 
bitterest enemies. 


CHAPTER XII. 


IN THE TOILS. 

A WEEK had elapsed since Edward Osgood’s arrest. 
A week of suffering it had been to the unhappy girl. 
She could not comprehend how she had survived the 
shock of her brother’s arrest and imprisonment. The 
evening on which Johnny Ryan had brought the 
dreadful news to her she never could forget while she 
lived. 

Margaret had told her mother that Edward had gone 
out of town on business, in order to hide the dreadful 
truth. 

The next morning Margaret left the house as usual, 
but instead of going to Jones Bros, she rode as far 
as the City Hall in a Third Avenue car, and walked 
down Broadway until she came to Mr. Blake’s office. 

The new clerk told her the lawyer was not in, but he 
expected him every moment. When Blake did arrive 
he bowed and showed Margaret into his private 
office. “Please be as brief as you can, miss, as I 
have to attend Mr. Arlington’s funeral at eleven 
o’clock.” 

“ I called to see you, sir, regarding the arrest of my 
brother. Surely, Mr. Blake, you cannot think him 
guilty ? ” 

iia 


IN THE TOILS. 


“ Ah ! ^you are Miss Osgood. I did not recognize 
you when I came in. I beg your pardon. I am very 
sorry you called, for really I cannot see what I can do 
for you.” 

“ Mr. Blake, you had my brother arrested for stealing 
a United States bond ” 

“Which was found upon his person,” interrupted the 
lawyer. 

“ How came it there ? ” demanded Margaret, sternly 
looking at the man before her, who quailed under her 
steady gaze. 

“ That is for the judge and jury to decide when your 
brother has his trial,” replied John Blake. 

“ Then you intend to appear against my brother ? ” 

“ I believe it to be my duty to make an example of 
him.” 

“You know he is innocent, Mr. Blake, yet for some 
sinister motive you are determined to prosecute him. 
Oh, man, have mercy on Edward for the sake of his in- 
valid mother, who will die if she discovers her only son 
has been branded as a felon,” implored Margaret, with 
tears she could not repress streaming down her cheeks. 

“ I can do nothing for your brother ; he has committed 
a crime, and the law must take its course.” 

“ Oh, listen to me — even if you think he is guilty — let 
Edward go for my mother’s sake. Have pity on him. 
You were once my father’s friend, and in the da3^s of his 
affluence enjoyed his patronage — for his sake let his son 
escape the disgraceful fate to which you are about to 
consign him. I implore you on my knees to have mercy 
on us all,” cried the beautiful girl, uplifting her hands 
beseechingly as she flung herself on her knees. 


1 14 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

But she pleaded in vain ; the lawyer’s heart was harder 
than the stones in the street. He had never done a 
charitable or kind act in his life, and he only smiled 
sarcastically at the kneeling girl as he said : 

“ Rise, Miss Osgood. I advise you to go on the stage ; 
it is evidently your vocation ; you are a beautiful girl 
and would make an admirable actress.” 

Margaret arose slowly from her suppliant posture, but 
with the dignity of an outraged queen ; she looked at 
John Blake scornfully as she quickly dashed the great, 
sorrowful tears from her eyes. 

“ I am sorry I humiliated myself to plead even for my 
dear brother, whom I firmly believe is innocent, though 
he may not be able to prove it. John Blake, the day will 
come when you will need mercy, and I hope God will 
deal with you then as you have this day dealt with me,” 
said Margaret, walking out of the lawyer’s office with a 
firm step, though her heart was heavy with the bitterest 
woe she had ever endured. 

Margaret returned home feeling utterly unable to aid 
her brother, as she did not know a single friend to 
whom she could appeal in his behalf. 

That evening Johnny Ryan called, bringing a letter 
from the poor prisoner in the Tombs. 

“ The Tombs, New York, December 5 , i 86 i. 

“ My dear Mother and Sister : I am not guilty ; 
but I witnessed Mr. Arlington’s will a few weeks ago. 
Blake wanted to bribe me to keep silent, as he had 
another will, made several years ago by the old cotton 
merchant, in his possession which he, Blake, wished to 
pass off as Mr. Arlington’s last will. I refused to 


IN THE TOILS. 


II5 

aid him in his dishonorable project, and left his 
office. 

“ Being excited at the time, I forgot my overcoat, 
which was hanging in the closet, and had almost reached 
Fourteenth Street when I felt cold, missed my coat, and 
returned to the office for it. 

“ I had bidden Johnny Ryan good-by and was going 
out of the door when Mr. Blake returned, accompanied 
by a policeman. I was arrested, and I found the bond 
in my coat pocket. How it came there is a mystery, 
unless it was placed there for a purpose. 

“You both know me well enough to believe that I 
would not tarnish my honor by committing such a deed. 
I declare before Heaven that I am innocent. Pray 
believe me, Maggie. Take good care of our dear mother 
until I can regain my liberty. I fear the worst, as I 
know John Blake to be a villain, who will not rest until 
he has locked me up. He has managed to maintain an 
honorable reputation in his profession, and he is re- 
spected by the city judges ; therefore everything is 
against me. I am almost afraid it is even useless to 
employ a lawyer to defend me. 

“ Johnny Ryan, who has been a friend in need, will 
bring you this letter ; and as he is a shrewd lad, be 
guided by his advice. 

“ Yours affectionately, 

“ Edward Osgood.” 

Margaret, in her agitation, had read her brother’s let- 
ter aloud, standing in the middle of the room beneath 
the gas jet. Johnny Ryan stood near her, his cap in his 
hand, listening attentively. 


it6 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

“ Merciful Heaven ! ” exclaimed the unhappy girl. 
“ 1 knew my brother was innocent, but he is in the power 
of that heartless villain. What shall I do to aid him ? ” 

“ You had better get a lawyer to defend him, miss. 
It is our only hope.” 

“I will see one in the morning. I believe I can get 
Mr. Weir to take the case for fifty dollars. It is all the 
money I have to offer him. He defended one of the 
clerks in the store who was arrested for theft, and 
proved him innocent. Oh, my mother ! My hardest 
task yet remains — to tell her,” cried Margaret, wringing 
her hands as she burst into tears. 

There was no need to inform the unhappy mother,, as 
she had entered the room quietly and unperceived, and 
overheard a portion of the conversation. Mrs. Osgood 
laid a trembling hand on her daughter’s arm, and looked 
into her face with a pathetic expression, as the tears 
filled her sad eyes. 

“ My daughter, tell me what is the trouble that you 
are endeavoring to hide from me.” 

“ Oh, mother ! Edward has been arrested, and he is a 
prisoner in the Tombs,” answered Margaret amid her 
sobs. 

Johnny Ryan told Mrs. Osgood what he knew of the 
affair, also what her son had imparted to him in the 
brief interview which he had been allowed to have with 
him that morning. 

“ Edward is not guilty, and if he lives his innocence 
will be proven. I know my poor boy could never forget 
himself so far as to steal. Oh ! how cruel it is to accuse 
him of such a crime ! ” 

Mrs. Osgood tried to be brave on Margaret’s account, 


IN THE TOILS. 


II7 

but her health was too poor to bear such a shock. She 
tottered and fell back in her daughter’s arms in a swoon, 
the crimson blood flowing from her mouth. 

“ Call Ann — she’s in the next room. Tell her to bring 
cracked ice and salt — she will understand ; then go to 
Twenty-first Street for Dr. Parker — go quickly. I fear 
the shock has killed her ! ” cried Margaret excitedly as 
she held her mother in her arms and tried to stanch the 
crimson stream as it came from her mouth. 

The following three days and nights Margaret spent 
at her mother’s bedside, nursing and watching, as she 
feared Mrs. Osgood might have another hemorrhage at 
any moment. 

Utterly worn out, the fourth night she resigned her 
post to Ann, who had proved her faithful friend as well 
as servant. 

Mrs. Osgood on the fifth day was pronounced con- 
valescent by Dr. Parker, and Margaret, leaving her 
mother in Ann’s care, immediately sought Mr. Weir, who 
informed her that he would do his best for her brother, 
but he was afraid that, as Mr. Blake had considerable 
influence with the presiding judge, he had but little 
chance of winning the case. 

Within a week after his arrest Edward Osgood had 
been indicted, and his case called up for trial, as all such 
cases are quickly disposed of. 

The court room was crowded with the usual mixed 
assembly that all such trials attract. 

All crowded and jostled together outside the bar. As 
the prisoner entered, the throng made a line for him to 
pass, crushing against each other with their heads thrown 
back, and staring into the young man’s face as if he had 


Il8 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

been some wild animal, till his thin hands clutched the 
bar for support. 

There he stood with his head erect, proudly thrown 
back, feeling conscious of his innocence. As he saw all 
those bright, hard eyes upon him, a faint crimson flush 
came to his face, and his hand stirred upon the railing 
with a slight shiver ; otherwise his composure was 
unbroken. 

The crowd closed up as he had passed, but Margaret 
and Johnny Ryan pressed closely upon his steps, forcing 
their way impetuously one moment, and looking help- 
lessly around at the next. 

Still resolutely following the prisoner, they won some 
little space at each step, not once losing sight of him as 
he moved through the sea of faces. At length they stood 
close behind him. 

The judge bent forward in his easy-chair and looked 
into the prisoner’s face, not harshly, but with an inter- 
ested expression, because he saw that the young man 
was no ordinary prisoner, and Edward Osgood, in spite 
of his shabby garments, looked every inch the gentle- 
man. 

After the jury had been impaneled the prisoner kissed 
the sacred volume, took the oath, and quiet reigned in 
the court room. 

The judge stooped forward, and in a kindly voice in- 
formed the prisoner of his rights, and cautioned him not 
to criminate himself in any answer he might make to 
the interrogations of the court. 

Edward Osgood raised his eyes, thanked the judge in 
a low voice, and waited. 

“Your name?” 


IN THE TOILS. 


r 


119 


“ Edward Osgood.” 

“ Is it your real name ? ” 

“ It is, your honor.” 

“ Where were you born ? ” 

“In New York City.” 

“ Where was, or is, your place of business ? ” 

“ I was until a week ago a clerk in Lawyer Blake’s 
office.” ' . 

“ Why did you leave his employ ? ” 

“ Because he wished me to do a dishonorable act. I 
refused and left his employ.” 

“ Did you have access to his safe ? ” 

“ I did, sir.” 

“ Did you abstract a United States bond from it the 
day on which you left his employ ? ” 

“ As Heaven is my witness, I never saw the bond until 
I was arrested ; then it was found in my pocket.” 

“ Who was employed in Mr. Blake’s office besides 
yourself ? ” 

“ Johnny Ryan, an office boy.” 

“ Did he ever give you occasion to doubt his honesty ? ” 
“ No, your honor, I always found him honest.” 

“ The prisoner may sit down for the present,” said the 
judge. 

The prosecution brought forward John Blake, Johnny 
Ryan, and the policeman who arrested Edward Osgood 
as its witnesses. 

Never was a chain of circumstantial evidence more 
complete. 

John Blake, when questioned regarding the nature of 
the transaction between himself and the prisoner, swore 
that he had not asked the latter to do a dishonorable act ; 


20 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


also that no one had access to his safe except the 
prisoner. 

The judge asked the prisoner to stand up again. 

Edward Osgood stood up. 

Do you object to repeat the conversation that you 
had with Mr. Blake the afternoon you left his employ ? ” 

The prisoner related the conversation, word for word. 

“ May I see a copy of Mr. Arlington’s will ? ” asked 
the judge, turning to the lawyer. 

A thrill of sympathy had passed through the crowd as 
the prisoner related the conversation, and every eye was 
turned toward John Blake as the judge asked him for 
a copy of the will. 

“ I expected your honor would ask to see the docu- 
ment, therefore I brought a copy of the original will 
with me.” 

The judge looked over the paper carefully, and then 
he said to the prisoner : 

“You said you witnessed Mr. Arlington’s last will?” 

“ I did, your honor.” 

“ Your name does not appear as a witness herein.” 

“ Then the will you hold in your hands is not the last 
one Mr. Arlington made,” said Edward Osgood deci- 
sively. 

“ I cannot see why a man of Mr. Blake’s reputation 
should commit a forgery,” said the judge. 

He then allowed the prosecuting attorney to give his 
charge to the jury. 

Mr. Weir then followed in a brief but eloquent 
speech ; and the judge then made a few remarks on 
the evidence, and gave the case to the jury, who left 
their seats to decide on the verdict. 


IN THE TOILS. 


121 


r 

Margaret, beautiful, pale, and sad-looking, sat as near 
to her brother as she could, waiting with a beating heart 
to hear his doom. 

The jury had been absent an hour, which had 
appeared to be a month to the agonized hearts awaiting 
their decision. 

At last the tramp of feet was heard, and twelve figures 
came, one after another, into the court room. They 
ranged themselves in a dark line along the jury box. 

The judge arose, leaning with one hand on the desk 
before him. 

“ Prisoner, stand up.” 

The young man arose, and flushed hotly as he turned 
his eyes to the twelve jurors. 

“ Guilty or not guilty ?” 

“ Guilty.” 

As Margaret heard the awful word, she fell back on 
the bench like a withered flower crushed by a ruthless 
hand. 

As the judge pronounced the sentence, Johnny Ryan 
carried her insensible form out of the court room. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


" MADAME ROLAND. 

Madame Roland, worn out by constant attendance 
upon the old cotton merchant, who had allowed no one 
else to nurse him, and by her terrible anxiety regarding 
Mrs. Graham’s illness, became so ill herself that the 
day on which the late Mr. Arlington was buried she 
was unable to rise from her bed. 

As Captain Graham was missing, there was no one, 
even of remote kindred, connected with the late mil- 
lionaire, except Madame la Tour and her daughter; 
therefore John Blake congratulated himself that no one 
questioned him regarding what disposal his late client 
had made of his vast wealth. 

The wily lawyer the evening on which the old .gentle- 
man was interred in Greenwood called on Dr. Enrich, 
a physician who resided in Bleecker Street. 

This doctor did not enjoy a very high reputation for 
professional morality — in fact, he had narrowly escaped 
being sent to* prison for committing crimes that made 
him answerable to the law, and it was through John 
Blake’s clever management of his defense that he es- 
caped on the two occasions that he had been indicted. 

He occupied an old-fashioned but extremely comfort- 
able brick dwelling, which was tastefully furnished. 

The lawyer rung the bell that communicated with 
the doctor’s office as the clocks struck nine. 


122 


MADAME ROLAND. 


123 


r 


A colored waiter opened the door and ushered him 
into the physician’s private reception room. 

“ Tell Dr. Enrich that an old friend wishes to see him 
on important business.” 

In a few minutes the doctor made his appearance. 
He had on his smoking cap and slippers, and a lighted 
cigar was between his fingens. 

He had evidently expected no more patients that 
evening. He was a tall, well-proportioned man, with 
deep-set, shrewd eyes, and had a well-shaped head, with 
a brow high and broad. His aquiline nose was drawn 
at the nostrils, and his mouth was large, coar.se, and 
cruel. As he wore neither beard nor mustache, the deep 
lines of care, study, or dissipation were very preceptible 
to the close observer. He started when he discovered 
who his visitor was. 

“ Ah, doctor ! you are surprised to see me.” 

“ I am, as you never call, except when I send for you. ” 

“ When you are in a tight place you always do, my dear 
fellow, but to-night I have need of your professional 
services.’^ 

“ You are not ill, are you ? ' 

“No, doctor, but I need your assistance.” 

“ Well, come into my consulting room, and we will 
talk at our ease.” 

When the two professional schemers were seated be- 
fore a blazing grate fire, which was very acceptable on 
that bitter December night, John Blake turned to Dr. 
Enrich and said : 

“ How would you like to make a thousand dollars.” 

“ Money, my dear sir, is always welcome to me. How 
can I earn my fee ! ” 


124 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

‘‘ Ey giving me a drug that will put a person to sleep 
for forty-eight hours, and which will also give the person 
who may take it the appearance of death.” 

“ Humph ! Yes, I can give you such a drug. Here it 
is,” he said, as he unlocked a small cabinet and held up 
a tiny crystal vial which he took from a small shelf. “ Or 
I can give you this ” — showing another vial filled with a 
dark, ruby-colored liquid. “ But the latter will only put 
your patient to sleep for twelve hours.” 

“ I shall want both of these drugs, also your services, 
as I wish to manage some matters for a wealthy client. 
I believe I can rely on you ? ” 

“You can, sir, as you did not fail me in the last un- 
pleasant affair I got tripped up in ; I shall now return 
you the compliment, and serve you to the best of my 
ability.” 

“ Thank you, dear doctor. I will take the vials with 
me. How many drops shall I administer ? ” 

“Twenty of the amber-colored fluid and ten of the 
ruby. There, I will write it down on this slip of paper, 
so you cannot forget it.” 

“ All right. I will send you a letter with full instruc- 
tions, after I have seen my client to-morrow morning. 

Madame Roland was confined to her bed for several 
days ; but she was aroused early on the fifth day after 
the old millionaire’s funeral by Mrs. Graham’s nurse 
rushing into her room in a most excited manner. 

“Well, Susan, how is your patient this morning?” 
anxiously asked the old housekeeper. 

“ Oh, ma’am, she’s dead ! ” cried the nur.se. 

“Dead? I thought you told me that Mrs. Graham 
was better last night.” 


f 


125 


MADAME ROLAND. 

“ So she was indeed. The poor lady begged me to lie 
down on the sofa, as she was sure that she would sleep, 
and she told me to leave her glass of lemonade on the 
stand by. her bedside, as that would be all she would 
require should she awaken., I did so — the glass was 
empty this morning. I must have slept soundly, for it 
was six o’clock when I awoke. I got up, and at first I 
thought she was asleep, but as I could not hear her 
breathe, I became alarmed, so I felt her heart and pulse, 
but they were still — she was dead ! ” 

The doctor was surprised at his patient’s sudden 
demise, but he attributed it to heart failure. 

Madame Roland, though still weak and ill, dressed 
the young Southerner for the grave, and sat by the 
cofhn, feeling too sorrowful for either words or 
tears. 

Laura Graham had endeared herself to her by a thou- 
sand loving acts, and had taken a daughter’s place in 
her heart. 

She could hardly realize that the bright young life of 
the fair Southern woman had faded away so suddenly. 

Madame Roland was roused from her sorrowful rev- 
erie by Richard Arlington, who came into the room and 
looked at the coffined woman. 

“She looks beautiful, and it is a pity that we shall be 
obliged to bury her so suddenly ” 

“ When does the funeral take place ? ” asked Madame 
Roland nervously. 

“ Oh, her funeral will have to be private, as she died 
of typhus fever, and the law only allows twenty-four 
hours for contagious diseases. I shall take her body to 
Tarrytown by the 4.02 train this afternoon. You may 


126 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


accompany her remains if you can bear the fatigue of 
the journey.” 

“ I will ; but where are you going to bury her ? ” 

“ In the old Tarrytown burying ground, as she once 
expressed a wish to be buried there. It was the first 
summer she was married, when we were all at my late 
uncle’s country seat. 

“ I have sent a man and woman there to assist the 
gardener to open the house, light up the furnace, and 
prepare everything for our reception. Can you be ready 
to leave here at three o’clock ? The hearse and carriage 
will be at the door then.” 

“ I will be ready,” replied the old lady sadly. 

She did not see the smile of satisfaction which for a 
moment lit up the young man’s face as he left the room.' 

When Madame Roland retired to her apartment to 
prepare for her mournful journe}^, Richard Arlington 
re-entered the room where Laura Graham lay. 

He locked the door and commenced to bore holes in 
the lid of the coffin. Not content with the number of 
holes he made, he took a chisel and made a large open- 
ing in the lid, just where it would cover the face of the 
corpse. The cedar coffin was covered with black cloth ; 
therefore when Richard Arlington had completed his 
mysterious work he nailed on another cloth with silver- 
headed nails where he had made the apertures. He 
then took his penknife and picked the cloth in such a 
manner that the air would penetrate, but it was done so 
nicely no one would notice it. 

He told the undertaker that he would place the lady’s 
body in the Tarrytown receiving vault, therefore he 
wanted no box for the coffin. He hired a baggage car 


f 




MADAME ROLAND. I 27 

for the remains, and during the journey up the Hudson 
he visited the car several times, and the conductor re- 
marked he was evidently devoted to his dead relative. 
When Richard Arlington and Madame Roland arrived 
at Tarrytown Dr. Enrich met them at the depot, where 
he had a hearse and carriage waiting. They immedi- 
ately drove to the late Mr. Arlington’s villa, which was 
about three miles from Tarrytown. 

It was a handsome three-story double brick dwelling, 
situated on a hill, which gave a fine view of the most 
picturesque river in America. A small, comfortable 
cottage, adjoining the stables, was where the gardener 
and his family lived. Dr. Enrich told Peter that Mrs. 
Graham had died of typhus fever, and therefore Mr. 
Arlington wished him to take his wife and children to 
some relative he had in the village, as Mr. Arlington did 
not wish the gardener or his family to catch the disease, 
and the man was given a hundred dollars to pay his 
board and expenses for a month. The honest Irish- 
man never for a moment doubted the truth of Dr. 
Enrich’s statement, but hastened home and made his 
wife get ready at once to leave the place. 

Mrs. Enrich had accompanied her husband to the 
villa, and had prepared a nice little dinner for the 
travelers. Madame Roland was only too glad to get 
another glimpse of the face of her friend, therefore she 
did not deem it strange that Mrs. Graham’s coffin had 
been brought to the villa in place of its being deposited 
in the Tarrytown receiving vault. The lid of the coffin 
was unscrewed by Dr. Enrich, and he examined the in- 
sensible form resting so quietly in the coffin and whis- 
pered to Richard Arlington : 


128 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ She is all right.’’ 

The old housekeeper could not be persuaded to eat 
any dinner, but sat beside Laura Graham’s coffin feeling 
a dull pain at her heart — a strange apathy had come 
over her. Mrs. Enrich stepped into the room bringing 
her a cup of coffee. Immediately after drinking it 
Madame Roland fell into a deep slumber. 

Dr. Enrich and Richard Arlington, coming into the 
room, found the old lady apparently as insensible as the 
coffined woman beside her. They laid Madame Roland, 
on the lounge, and going to the coffin, took Laura 
Graham out of it, carried her upstairs and put her in 
a bed between warm blankets. 

The coffin was then filled with stones, the lid again 
screwed down. The coffin was placed in the hearse, 
and followed by Dr. Enrich and Mr. Arlington in his 
carriage, the litter was driven to the old burying ground 
and deposited in the receiving vault. 

Richard Arlington and the doctor drove to the depot, 
where they met Mr. Blake and Dr. Hamilton, who had 
just arrived on the last New York train. After the 
usual introduction between the parties they all got into 
the waiting carriage, and when they were seated Richard 
Arlington said : 

“ My uncle’s former housekeeper, who has had typhus 
fever, has been mentally ailing for some time ; she will 
have to be treated by you. Dr. Hamilton.” 

“ It is very creditable to your benevolent nature, Mr. 
Arlington, to assume the charge of this poor woman.” 
said the physician. ' 

“ Not at all, doctor, as she nursed me during my child- 
hood. Whatever the cost is to myself I am bound to 


V 


MADAME ROLAND. I 29 

provide a home for Madame Roland. I regret to say her 
mind is gone, but I am prepared to place her under 
your charge, and to offer you whatever remuneration you 
may think is fair and liberal.” 

The doctor bowed. His cunning brown eyes twinkled 
with gratification at having secured another inmate for 
that peaceful and delightful home which he called 
“ Woodbine Asylum,” but he dropped his eyelids and 
affected disinterested feelings. 

“ I am ready to serve you, Mr. Arlington,” replied Dr. 
Hamilton, “and in serving you it is very pleasant to 
serve also the cause of humanity. Let me see her. Dr. 
Enrich is prepared to give a certificate, I believe ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Dr. Enrich, mournfully shaking his 
head. “ I am really very sorry, but I am afraid that 
there can be no doubt of the case — -the poor woman is 
mad.” 

Dr. Hamilton was the last man to be deceived by 
hypocrisy, for he was himself an accomplished hypocrite. 
He penetrated the pretense of generosity beneath which 
Richard Arlington sought to conceal his real pur- 
pose, and the doctor clearly perceived there was some 
mysterious reason for Madame Roland’s removal to his 
establishment. 

When the carriage drove up to the villa the two 
medical men alighted, followed by the wily lawyer and 
Richard Arlington, who led the way to the parlor where 
Madame Roland lay. 

“ I understand,” Dr. Hamilton said to himself, as he 
bent over the insensible woman and felt her pulse. “ I 
have only to keep quiet and I may make this business 
very profitable,” 


130 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“You see she is now lying still. I had to give her an 
opiate to quiet her — she raved so before we carried Mrs. 
Graham’s coffin out,” said Dr. Enrich. 

“ It is a sad case,” remarked Dr. Hamilton, who 
may have thought it more mysterious than anything else. 

He was acquainted with the other physician’s unsavory 
reputation, but he accepted his certificate. 

“ Well, doctor, what will be your terms ? ” asked Rich- 
ard Arlington when the two medical sharks came into 
the dining room. 

“ Fifteen hundred a year.” 

“ Humph ! ” muttered Mr. Blake. “ Are not these 
terms absurdly extravagant, taking into consideration 
the position of the patient ? ” 

“ No, sir, the terms are not by any means extrava- 
gant, taking into consideration the nature of the case,” 
answered Dr. Hamilton briefly, looking at the lawyer 
and then at his client. 

“ I accept your terms. Dr. Hamilton. I would will- 
ingly spend twice that amount to restore my old nurse 
to her senses,” responded Richard Arlington. 

That night about nine o’clock a private carriage was 
driven from the villa ; in it were the two physicians and 
Madame Roland, who gave them no trouble, as she was 
still under the effects of the opiate.. Thus was this 
fiendish plot carried out. How it succeeded in the end 
the future pages of this story will show. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


BARGAINS, 

Margaret had been absent from the store for 
several weeks. She felt too utterly dejected to know 
what to do — whither to turn for aid in her abject 
misery. 

Her proud head was bowed in bitter humiliation at her 
brother’s disgrace. To think that the brother — who had 
ever been the soul of honor — was now a convicted thief 
in Sing Sing, wearing the brand of dishonor. 

Albert Williams, who had read the particulars of 
Edward Osgood’s arrest and trial in the daily journals, 
judging by the chain of circumstantial evidence, believed 
the unfortunate young man had yielded in a moment of 
Weakness to temptation, and committed the crime for 
which he had been sentenced. 

The young dry goods merchant had become interested 
in the beautiful girl whose presence graced his uncle’s 
store ; he had observed her absence, and he asked Miss 
North “ if her friend intended to return to the store,” 
but Lizzie could not give him the information he 
desired. 

She could only tell him that Mrs. Osgood was ill. 
Albert Williams then obtained the saleslady’s address, 
and after dinner that evening he called upon her. 

Margaret received the young dry goods man with 


132 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

quiet dignity, and waited for him to commence the con- 
versation. 

“Miss Osgood, I called at the request of my uncle 
David to ask you to resume your position in the cloak 
department. Mrs. Jardine has written a very urgent 
letter to the ‘ boss ’ asking him to offer you fifteen dollars 
a week. She also says that she cannot believe your 
brother is guilty of the crime for which he was sen- 
tenced.” 

Grateful tears gathered in Margaret’s eyes as she 
heard that one person, whose good opinion was worth 
having, believed in her brother’s innocence ; but she was 
amazed to hear that David Jones desired her return to 
the store, because she had an inward conviction that he 
was her enemy. 

She was also very much surprised at the strange in- 
fluence Mrs. Jardine seemed to wield over the head of 
the firm. 

After a brief pause the young girl looked up at Mr. 
Williams and said : 

“ I feel very grateful to Mrs. Jardine for her interest 
in me, and also for her doing my brother justice, but I 
would very much rather seek another situation.” 

“ But, my dear Miss Osgood, we wish to retain your 
services. To-morrow we place on the market some 
wonderful bargains — the cheapest lot of satins ever sold 
in New York. We will be short of hands, and we must 
have two ladies out of the cloak department, so it will 
be doing us a great favor if you will return.” 

“ But suppose that my brother’s misfortune is a sub- 
ject of gossip ? ” 

“ My dear young lady, let he or she who is without 


BARGAINS. 


133 


sin cast the first stone at yon. Come to me if you are 
at all uncomfortable and I will discharge every one who 
annoys you.” 

“ I will return to oblige you, sir, to-morrow,” said 
Margaret as she shook hands with her visitor at the ter- 
mination of their interview. 

The day Margaret went back to Jones Bros, she 
looked around in astonishment, for the interior of the 
store had been arranged like a bazaar, to show off the 
Christmas goods, and the cases of satins which Mr. 
Lacy had sold to Jones Bros, had been extensively 
advertised as the greatest bargains ever offered in the 
great metropolis. 

The two Broadway windows were dressed with the 
satins arranged in the form of the national flag. 

The red, white, and blue formed a pleasing contrast, 
and the windows attracted the popular eye, as the 
patriotism of the nation was at fever heat. 

The eaglfes were splendid stuffed specimens of the 
noble bird. To their necks was attached a large card 
on which the word “ Bargains ” was printed in large 
type, also the magic phrase, “ Satins at Cost.” 

Harry Lacy had rightly pfophesied. The rush was 
immense. 

To attract the middle class of people there was a fine 
display of cotton goods — calicoes at twenty cents a yard 
were really great bargains in those days, as Stewart and 
Lord & Taylor were selling the same goods for twenty- 
five cents. 

Jones Bros, had marked up all the other stock, so 
what they lost on this line of merchandise they made 
up in other quarters. 


134 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

At the satin counter the ladies were pushing each 
other hither and thither without ceremony. 

Fashionably attired women stood behind purchasers 
who were fortunate enough to have found seats at this 
counter, with an expression of determination on their 
faces, that looked as if they were about to storm a for- 
tress. 

The salesmen held up the various colored satins in 
their hands to show their effects, while they dilated on 
either the beauty of the shades or quality of the material, 
and how great a bargain they were. 

Fair hands, adorned with diamonds, fingered the 
rich stuff caressingly, and the light of the precious 
jewels flashed and lit up the superb satins they were 
examining. 

At five o’clock the store was a perfect jam, and it was 
difficult to pass in and out of the Broadway doors. The 
crowd was composed of all sorts of people — women 
- in silk attire, women in calico gowns, servant girls — 
and here and there might be seen an officer in uniform 
who had entered the store with a lady friend or relative. 
The heat was intense — one lady fainted and had to 
be carried upstairs to the ladies dressing room ; several 
had their dresses torn, and not a few of them either lost 
their pocketbooks or had their purses stolen. 

Harry Lacy had come in to see how the satins were 
selling. 

He stood at the top of a flight of /stairs which led 
to the cloakroom, and looked down on the crowd 
below. 

As he stood there, taking a survey of the people, he 
was joined by Mr. James Jones. 


Bargains. 135 

They greeted each other, and the wholesale drummer, 
waving his hand, said ; 

“ I was right, you see ; those satins are such real bar- 
gains that you have captured them.” 

“Wait until seven o’clock, and the cash is counted, 
my dear boy ; then we will know if our crowd has 
been a purchasing one, or simply the usual regiment 
of shoppers that infest our stores on any special oc- 
casion. 

“ Well, those women, though they are a nuisance, have 
their use — they are like the deadheads in a theater dur- 
ing the run of an unsuccessful drama,” replied the 
drummer. 

James Jones, seeing a very pretty girl coming upstairs, 
whom he knew, saluted her, and nodding to the drum- 
mer, walked with his customer toward the cloak depart- 
ment. 

Albert Williams then met the drummer, and the two 
men went' downstairs to see how the satins were selling. 
As they saw the crowd before the counter, they were 
quite satisfied. 

“ Come, Lacy, let us go up to my office and have a glass 
of wine. I am both fatigued and hoarse with this day’s 
work. I have shown about a hundred women through 
the store, and told them how charming they looked ; in- 
quired about the different members of their families 
with a degree of warmth that would have done credit to 
a doctor, for, my dear fellow, we dry goods men live by 
the successful falsehoods we utter.” 

The drummer laughed. 

“ You will do ; I heard you as I entered the store tell 
Mrs. Doane that she was looking as young as her daugh- 


136 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

ter, and she blushed and looked very much pleased, 
poor soul.’’ 

“ Pshaw ! What’s the odds ? Women like to be flat- 
tered, and as we live by their follies, we must study their 
weak points.” 

The two young men had walked through the cloak 
department as they were speaking. Mr. Williams saw 
Margaret and bowed respectfully to her. 

“ I see your handsome saleslady has returned. Are 
you becoming infatuated in that quarter ? ” 

“ Nonsense ! There’s no woman more worthy of 
admiration than Miss Osgood ; but I can assure you I 
have no serious intentions regarding her or any other 
lady ; for you know the old adage : ‘ A young man 
married is a young man marred.’ ” 

“By Jove! my dear boy, there is more truth than 
poetry in your remark. I could not be tempted, unless 
I could secure a gilded pill like Miss Osbourne.” 

“ Oh ! you mean the diamond lady, as the salesladies 
call her. I can’t swallow that pill, my boy ; I am afraid 
it would choke me.” 

“You are a fool if you do not take the dose. You 
can enjoy life, spend whatever income you have — know- 
ing that your father-in-law has saved you the trouble of 
laying up one for your old age — it you marry that girl. 
I heard that she was awfully gone on you.” 

At this moment a cash boy touched Mr. Williams’ arm, 
saying : 

“ Mr. David Jones wishes to see you, sir, in his office.” 

“ Ta, ta, Lacy. Come up to my den before you go, 
and we will toast your great satin bargains in a glass of 
golden sherry.” 


BARGAINS. 


137 


As the two young men separated, Harry Lacy caught 
a glimpse of Margaret standing near the window gazing 
out on Broadway with a sad, dreamy look in her beauti- 
ful eyes. 

A scowl darkened the face of the wholesale drummer 
as he saw the girl who, in spite of her poverty, had de- 
fied him. 

He approached Margaret, who turned from the win- 
dow as if she wished to avoid him, but the drummer 
suddenly stepped in her path, and prevented her going 
toward the center of the room, as she had intended. 

“ So you have a brother in Sing Sing. He only fol- 
lowed the example of your father ; unfortunately he was 
not a bank president ; and instead of cleverly taking the 
money intrusted to him by his confiding depositors, he 
commits a clumsy theft, and is now most rightly march- 
ing in to his supper with the rest of the gang of murder- 
ers and thieves who are sent to prison for the safety o( 
society.” 

Margaret flushed painfully as the cowardly fellow 
.slowly tortured her by his brutal words. 

She looked at him with flashing eyes, and drew herself 
up to her full height as she answered : 

“ There are more rascals out of Sing Sing than in it. 
You are a most contemptible coward ! Allow me to 
pass, sir,” and Margaret haughtily swept by him and 
joined Madame Effray at the other end of the show 
room. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE SHOPLIFTER. 

The day following Margaret’s meeting with Harry 
Lacy she was feeling exceedingly nervous and very sad, 
for his unmanly insult still rankled in her gentle 
breast. 

Mrs. Osgood continued to be confined to her bed, for 
the poor lady’s spirit was crushed by the great trials she 
had to endure. 

Her son’s disgrace was a terrible blow to her, because 
Edward had always been an affectionate and considerate 
son. 

She had trained him in the path of strict rectitude, and 
therefore she was convinced that he was the victim of 
circumstances. 

Her mother’s instinct told her that he could never 
have committed the crime for which he had been con- 
victed. 

Margaret was now the sole bread winner of the little 
family, and her small salary was barely sufficient to pay 
all their expenses, but Ann made the most of their little 
income, and the faithful woman endeavored not to let 
her invalid mistress want for the comforts which she 
needed. Margaret tried to do her duty bravely and 
to live down her brother’s unmerited disgrace. She 
was kept exceedingly busy during the first week of 

138 


THE SHOPLIFTER. 


139 


her return, as the store was thronged early and late 
by customers seeking either to replenish their winter 
wardrobes or to purchase gifts for their friends and rela- 
tives. 

In the laceroom were shown exquisite and costly 
fabrics, calculated to drive a woman to commit almost 
any folly to possess some of these treasures, for next to 
diamonds laces are coveted by the fair sex. 

Mrs. Hoyt, who had come from Albany to make her 
purchases for the holidays, was seated at the lace counter 
closely examining some of the lace goods, and in the 
corner, not far off from where she was seated, Peter 
McCann, the detective employed by the firm, stood. 

He had not once taken his eyes off Mrs. Hoyt, 
notwithstanding the indolent, lounging air she had 
assumed. 

“Have you any lace flounces of point de Venise?” 
asked Mrs. Hoyt. 

“ I believe we have some in stock,” answered the clerk 
as he turned around to the shelf behind him. 

He was so impressed by his customer’s grand manner 
and matronly beauty that he forgot his usual caution, 
and began looking for the flounces. He brought out 
several boxes of the superb filmy fabrics and laid them 
on the counter. The clerk had forgotten that it was 
against the rules of the house to show so many of them 
at a time. It was careless on his part, for during the 
previous week some seven yards of point d’Alen9on had 
been taken off the counter before his eyes ; and besides 
this, there had been many other instances in which costly 
laces had been missed, and the house detective could 
find no trace of the thief, 


140 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

McCann had been watching the lace counter for sev- 
eral weeks, but as yet it seemed to be of no avail. 

The detective’s suspicions had been attracted to Mrs. 
Hoyt by seeing her transfer her handkerchief from her 
right to her left hand, and letting it gently fall on the 
counter, and after a few moments putting it in the pocket 
of her cloak. 

After this little episode she walked to the other end of 
the counter and took up some collars and cuffs of lace, 
and the detective, still watching, saw her take another 
handkerchief out of her dress pocket, wipe her face with 
it, and lay it down, then slyly pick it up and replace it 
in her pocket, but not before the detective’s keen eye 
had caught a glimpse of a piece of lace which the shop- 
lifter had picked up along with her handkerchief. 

Mrs. Hoyt was then shown the flounces she had asked 
for, but did not appear to fancy them, and said to the 
obliging salesman : 

“ I do not like any of these patterns. I will wait until 
I am in the city again next month, and then you may 
have something that will suit me better.” 

As she walked down the department the detective 
followed her, and overtook her before she reached the 
large glass doots that opened on Broadway. 

He laid his hand on her arm and said : 

“I will trouble you to step this way, madam.” 

Mrs. Hoyt started and turned pale, but she haughtily 
raised her head, and looking at McCann indignantly, 
walked rapidly out of the store. 

He followed her out, and taking hold of her arm with 
a firm grip said : 

“ If you wish to avoid trouble you will go quietly with 


THE SHOPLIFTER. 


141 

me to the cloak department and allow Madame Effra}'- 
to examine the contents of your pockets.” 

“How dare you address me in such a manner? I 
never was so insulted in my life. I shall report to Mr. 
James Jones and have you discharged for your imper- 
tinence.” 

“ Madam, I don’t think you will when you learn who 
I am,” replied the detective as a sarcastic smile lingered 
about his lips. 

“ Allow me to pass, sir,” said Mrs. Hoyt angrily, 

“ No, madam, you must return with me or I will give 
you in charge of a policeman. I saw you take two 
pieces of lace off the counter.” 

“ How dare you insinuate that I have committed a 
theft ? My husband will bring a suit for damages against 
the firm, for such a suspicion even is an outrage,” ex- 
claimed the excited woman. 

“ Come, come, madam ; for your own safety I advise 
you to return to the store and be examined.” 

Mrs. Hoyt saw that she had a resolute man to deal 
with, so she turned about and entered the store. 

They met Mr. James Jones coming downstairs as 
they were going to the cloakroom. 

The detective stopped him and said in a low tone : 

“ Mrs, Hoyt will have to be searched.” 

James Jones started, and a shade of annoyance passed 
over his handsome countenance. 

“ Sir, this is an outrage ! ” exclaimed the accused 
woman. 

“ Madam, McCann maybe mistaken'; if he is we are 
ready to apologize ; if, on the other hand, you, in a mo- 
ment of forgetfulness, have taken goods that have not 


142 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


been paid for, we will allow you to go, providing you 
return the laces and give us a check for three hundred 
dollars. This we demand, as you may have taken other 
goods, also unpaid for. We will, in the latter case, 
madame, dispense with your patronage.” 

Mrs. Hoyt bowed and passed on, followed by the de- 
tective. 

He took her into one of the small fitting rooms open- 
ing out of the cloak department. 

When he saw the culprit seated McCann called Madame 
Effray and made known to her the state of affairs. 

She in her turn called Margaret Osgood, and they 
both went into the fitting room. 

“ Madam, may I trouble you to take off your cloak ? ” 
said the Frenchwoman to the weeping lady who sat 
on the chair crying tears of bitter mortification and 
rage. 

“ Take care, my husband will bring a suit for heavy 
damages against the firm.” 

“Madam, you must be reasonable. Please give me 
your cloak.” 

Mrs. Hoyt unbuttoned her cloak and literally flung 
the garment into the forewoman’s outstretched hands, 
Madame Effray put her hands into the pockets and took 
out two collars of point d’aiguille. Out of Mrs. Hoyt’s 
dress pocket came a roll of Valenciennes, and two fine 
collars of Brussels lace. 

When the search was completed Mr. James Jones was 
called in, and the articles given to him. He then de- 
manded that Mrs. Hoyt should sign a paper stating that 
she had taken the goods, also a written promise to pay 
the three hundred dollars. 


THE SHOPLIFTER. 


143 


“This paper will then be returned to you, madam,” 
said he. 

“ I shall never redeem it, sir.” 

“ Yes, you will, madam, for all such documents are 
claimed by the parties who sign them.” 

The shoplifter signed the paper without another word 
of protest, and then walked out of the room, the de- 
tective keeping pace with her until he saw her leave the 
store. 

“ You ought to have had that woman arrested, sir,” 
said the detective to Mr. Jones. “ Your brother would 
not have let her off so easily.” 

“ No, I suppose he would not ; but, as David is at home 
to-day, laid up with one of his usual attacks, I did what 
I considered was best, for I believe it costs us far less 
to compromise these cases than to prosecute them,” re- 
plied the merchant as he turned to address a passing 
salesman. 

Margaret, when she entered the cloak department, felt 
how unevenly justice was meted out in the world. She 
thought : 

“ Here is a woman who is guilty, and she is not even 
deprived of her liberty, because she has money to hush 
up her crime, while my brother, who is innocent, is 
undergoing punishment for a crime he never committed.” 

Ada Bennet came up to Margaret as the latter took 
her wonted place in the salesroom, and said to her : 

“ Did you find any stolen goods on Mrs. Hoyt ?” 

“ Miss Bennet, you will please excuse me from an- 
swering your question, as Mr. Williams has cautioned 
me against replying to any such inquiries.” 

“ Oh, well. You’re used to that sort of thing in your 


144 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

own family, so of course you suppose you are quite right 
in shielding a thief,” said the heartless girl sarcastically. 

The tears rushed to Margaret’s eyes, and she hastily 
left the department to hide her emotion, but she was too 
nervous to control the sobs arising in her throat. 

Albert Williams saw her as she came running down 
the stairs, and said : 

“ Please come into the bookkeeper’s private office 
with me ? ” 

When she was seated he said to her : 

‘‘ Now will you please tell me what your trouble is ? ” 

“ I prefer leaving your employ, sir, to giving you the 
desired information,” replied the young girl, wiping 
away the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“ If I thought any of our saleswomen had insulted 
you. Miss Osgood, I would discharge them at once.” 

“ Pray, Mr. Williams, let the matter drop. You are 
very kind, but I am so nervous ; I hope you will excuse 
my weakness. I am sorry I gave way to my feelings,” 
answered the heroic girl, mastering her emotion by a 
strong effort. 

“ I fear you are not over well to-day. Go home and I 
will make an excuse to Madame Effray for you. Give me 
your book. It is five o’clock, so you will not be missed.” 

Margaret took the salesbook out of the pocket of her 
black silk apron and handed it to Mr. Williams. 

“ Oh, thank you for all your goodness to me,” said the 
beautiful girl impulsively as she shook hands with her 
employer’s handsome nephew, and walked out of the 
office, feeling that she possessed a real friend in Albert 
Williams. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


ALONE IN THE WORLD. 

The next day was cold and drear, without being 
stormy. The sky was clouded a little, and of that pale, 
hard blue which is more desolate than absolute storm. 
The air was full of snow, but none fell ; and the sun- 
shine, when it did penetrate the atmosphere, streamed 
mournfully to the brown, frozen earth. 

Mrs. Osgood’s health and spirits were affected by the 
weather, and she had another hemorrhage. 

Margaret watched by her bedside all that weary day, 
feeling a numb despair, for her life of recent sorrow was 
breaking down her brave spirit. 

The doctor shook his head when he saw his patient ; 
he knew her days were numbered, but he felt it would be 
a cruel kindness to tell Margaret the truth. 

He wrote a prescription, ordered sherry wine and beef 
tea, and left, feeling a tender sympathy for the young 
girl, who had tried her best to conquer adverse fortune. 

Margaret sat with her mother’s hand in hers, feeling a 
sense of protection from her feeble clasp. 

Mrs. Osgood had an hour’s refreshing sleep, and she 
awoke feeling somewhat stronger. 

Ann brought her mistress a bowl of beaf tea, and fed 
her with it as she would have fed a child. 

Thank you, Ann,” said the invalid. “ You have 


145 


146 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMxMER. 

been a real friend to me in my sad trials, and may God 
reward you for your noble devotion to my poor children 
and myself.” 

“ Sure, ma’am, I have done nothing but my duty. 
You were always kind to me, and to all who lived under 
your roof. You were not too proud to help the poor.” 

“ I only did what was my duty, Ann,” replied Mrs. 
Osgood, smiling at her old servant’s enthusiastic praise. 

“ Sure, ma’am, I wish all the rich people in the cit}?^ 
would do their duty by the poor as you did when you 
had the means to do it with, and sorra a bit of trouble 
would there be in the world.” 

When Ann left the room the invalid, opening her arms, 
said : 

“ My daughter ! ” 

Margaret fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing out her 
misery on the invalid’s feeble breast. 

“ Margaret, I feel I have not long to live, and while 1 
have a little strength I want to tell you what are my last 
wishes in the event of my sudden death.” 

“ Mother, mother ! Don’t ! I cannot bear it ! ” cried 
Margaret. 

Their arms unlocked at length, and the two held each 
other’s hands in a lingering clasp. 

“ Margaret, when your brother returns tell him that I 
died feeling certain he was innocent, for I know my boy’s 
character too well to doubt his honesty. Tell him to 
leave his enemies to the vengeance of Heaven, and not 
to seek to revenge his wrongs. 

“ If the war is not over when Edward’s prison doors 
are opened let him join the army, and either fall fight- 
ing for his country or win an honorable place again 


ALONE IN THE WORLD. 


147 


among men. It is the only avenue that I see open to 
him, for no man will employ one who has been branded 
as a thief:” 

“ Oh, mother ! that is the worst of all our troubles, 
and it almost drives me distracted when I think of the 
wrong that my brother is now enduring.” 

Mrs. Osgood sank back on her pillows exhausted, for 
even a strong woman could not pass through the scenes 
of privation, sorrow, and disgrace without having her 
strength undermined. 

Margaret, who saw her mother every day, had scarcely 
noticed how weak she had become ; for, as she ap- 
proached the grave, the holy faith within her beamed 
out stronger and brighter, as a flame becomes more 
brilliant from increased purity of the oil on which it 
feeds. 

The next day Mrs. Osgood rallied, and Margaret 
went back to the store. 

The young girl was certainly to be pitied, for she had 
to leave her dying mother, go forth into the world, and 
earn the means to keep a roof over her parent’s head. 

The week before Christmas is always an unusually 
busy one in all large dry goods establishments, and the 
store had been thronged all the morning. 

As Margaret was about to join her friend Lizzie 
North in the basement to eat her lunch, she overheard 
Ada Bennet say to Maud Harris : 

“ Oh, she can afford to put on airs, and remain at 
home two days during the busiest week of the season ! 
I don’t believe her mother is so ill as she says — it is all 
put on.” 

“ If Mr. Williams was as sweet on me I would stay at 


148 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

home whenever I felt like it ! ” and Maud laughed spite- 
fully. 

Margaret colored, and passed out of the room, feeling 
a strange bitterness take possession of her heart at the 
unjust comments of these two girls. Her trials for 
that day were not over, for in the afternoon Edith 
la Tour entered the cloak department with Albert 
Williams. 

Edith looked very handsome in her new sealskin 
jacket and dark blue velvet bonnet, which set off her 
beauty to advantage. 

She sat down in one of the armchairs that were placed 
in the upper end of the store for customers. 

Margaret was fitting a cloak on a lady, and as she 
stood only a few yards from them, she couldn’t help 
overhearing their conversation. 

“ Mamma wishes to know if you will dine with us on 
Thursday evening, and accompany us after dinner to 
the opera ? We have a box, you know, for the season 
at the Academy.” 

“Your mother is very kind. Miss la Tour, and I shall 
accept her invitation with pleasure. How do you like 
our holiday display ? ” 

“ Oh, it is the finest I ever saw ? It looks like fairy- 
land downstairs. I was in Stewart’s this morning, and 
they were not at all crowded. I imagine you must be 
doing a greater amount of business than they are.” 

“ We cannot complain. My uncles have made money 
rapidly since they went into business. You will have to 
excuse me, Miss la Tour, for I have a great deal to at- 
tend to this afternoon.” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Williams. We expect to enjoy the 


ALONE IN THE WORLD. 


149 


pleasure of your company on Thursday evening. Good- 
by.” 

And the haughty New York belle swept past Margaret 
without recognizing her, though her brother had loved 
her well, 

Margaret felt the hot, indignant blood rush to her 
cheeks at Edith la Tour’s slight, and though she was not 
aware of it, she was jealous, for Albert Williams’ hand- 
some face and his quiet sympathy were winning a place 
in her heart, though she did not care to acknowledge 
even to herself how much she was interested in him. 

How could Edith la Tour forget Edward so soon? 
Margaret asked herself this question over and over 
again. 

She could not realize that Edith was a society doll, 
with no aspirations beyond that of making a wealthy 
marriage. 

Moral worth counts as naught with such women, who 
covet satins and diamonds. 

Margaret had been kept so busy all day that she had 
not stopped to think, though her anxiety for her mother 
was intense. 

As the clock struck four, she felt relieved, for she 
thought : “ I shall be at liberty to return home in two 
hours.” 

At this moment a boy who was one of her neighbors 
was shown into the cloak department. 

He gave Margaret a note ; she read it, uttered a pierc- 
ing shriek, and fell on the floor in a swoon. 

Madame Effray had her carried into one of the small 
fitting rooms ; the note was firmly clasped in her hand ; 
it was a brief message from Ann, and read as follows : 


150 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Come home at once ; your mother is dying.*’ 

Poor girl ! her mother dying and her brother in 
prison ! 

“ Heaven pity her ! ” cried the forelady, as she looked 
at Margaret’s insensible form. 

Madame Effray was kind-hearted woman, and she did 
all she could to revive the unconscious girl. 

She sent for Lizzie North, who came into the room 
with a startled look on her face. 

When Madame Effray told her what had caused her 
friend to faint she cried out : 

“ Oh, madame. Miss Osgood is very unfortunate ! I 
was afraid her mother could not live out the winter, she 
was so very delicate. I will go downstairs and get her 
things and my own, and as soon as she is able to leave I 
will take her home.” 

As soon as Margaret was restored to consciousness, 
she and her faithful friend hastened to her humble 
home. 

Margaret threw herself on her knees at her mother’s 
bedside, and took one of Mrs. Osgood’s cold hands in 
hers. 

“ Mother ! ” she cried, “ speak to me.” 

But the cold form, lying so motionless, was incapable 
of replying to the child that she had loved so devotedly, 

^‘Mother!” again cried the terrified girl. “Oh, 
merciful Heaven ! she is dead ! ” and Margaret, for the 
second time that day, fell on the floor insensible. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


LAURA GRAHAM. 

The drug which Dr. Enrich had given to Richard 
Arlington to administer to Mrs. Graham was one of those 
strange East Indian opiates unknown to Amercian physi- 
cians. 

Its effect was to suspend all animation, and make the 
person to whom it had been given have a lifeless appear- 
ance. 

Richard Arlington had been enabled to carry out his 
scheme successfully because the regular family physician 
was ill, and a young doctor who was his assistant attended 
to Dr. Lyons’ patients during his confinement to his 
house. 

When Dr. Roberts saw that Mrs. Graham had all the 
symptoms of death, he concluded that she had suffered 
a relapse from the typhus fever, and died from heart 
failure, and of course he gave a burial certificate in 
accordance with his opinion. 

Owing to the air holes which Arlington had bored in 
Mrs. Graham’s coffin, she had escaped suffocation, and 
the moment Madame Roland was carried off to Wood- 
bine Asylum the insensible form of Laura Graham was 
taken out of the casket, and she was immediately carried 
upstairs to bed and put between hot blankets, and hot 
water bottles were kept continually at her feet by Dr. 
Enrich and his wife. 


152 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

They also forced between her set teeth an antidote to 
the almost deadly drug that had so completely benumbed 
her faculties. 

The next day Mrs. Graham recovered her conscious- 
ness, but she was too weak to lift her hand to her head. 

Dr. Enrich returned to New York and left his wife to 
nurse the sick woman back to health. 

Mrs. Enrich was a strong, masculine German woman, 
without an atom of principle, and she was not at all over- 
burdened by any of the finer emotions of the heart; but 
she was a capital nurse; so, owing to her patient’s robust 
constitution, three weeks from the date of Laura Gra- 
ham’s supposed death and burial she was enabled to 
walk about, and in a fair way to recover from the effects 
of the opiate. 

Richard Arlington was informed of Laura Graham’s 
improved health, and her repeated importunities to have 
her little son restored to her arms. 

Her husband’s cousin was glad to hear that his vic- 
tim’s health had not been injured seriously by Dr. 
Enrich’s prescription; and, taking little Harry Graham 
and the nurse who had had charge of him for the last 
two or three weeks with him, the millionaire went to 
Tarry town. 

Little Harry was a beautiful two-year-old boy. He 
had regular features, dark hazel eyes, and light golden 
curls. 

He was a wonderfully intelligent child, and could 
make himself understood better than most children of 
his age. 

Bertha, his German nurse, had been engaged by Dr. 
Enrich to take care of the child, and had been instructed 


LAURA GRAHAM. 153 

to take him to her mother’s house in East Third Street 
until she was sent for to bring him to Tarrytown. 

It was from the doctor’s residence that the child was 
delivered to the new nurse, therefore she had no idea to 
whom he belonged. 

Richard Arlington had all Mrs. Graham’s personal 
effects packed by her former nursery maid. 

He informed the girl that he was going to place them 
in storage until the war was over, when he intended to 
send the trunks to Richmond, Va., to her mistress’ rela- 
tives. 

The day was fine, and the sunshine streamed through 
the curtained windows in the pleasant parlor of the late 
Mr. Arlington’s country seat as Laura Graham sat with 
an eager light in her handsome dark eyes, for she was 
expecting her little boy. 

Hark ! the sound of carriage wheels was heard on the 
graveled drive, and she ran to the door; a few moments 
later Richard Arlington came in, with the child in his 
arms. 

With a glad cry Mrs. Graham took little Harry and 
pressed him convulsively to her throbbing heart. 

“Oh, mamma!” cried the little one, rceognizing his 
mother. 

‘‘My boy, my baby! You have not forgotten your 
own mother,” and the happy woman shed tears of joy 
over her restored treasure. 

When Mrs. Graham’s emotions were somewhat sub- 
dued she turned to Richard Arlington, who had thrown 
himself on a lounge, and sat watching the mother’s 
joyous outburst of maternal affection with a cynical 
smile around the corners of his mouth. 


154 ROMANCE OF A DRV GOODS DRUMMER. 

“Why did not Madame Roland come with you?” asked 
Mrs. Graham, softly patting her boy’s golden curls. 

“Because she died the week after Mr. Arlington did. 
She caught the fever nursing you.” 

“Merciful Heaven! Madame Roland dead!” exclaimed 
the startled lady. “Have you heard anything from 
Washington about my husband?” she asked anxiously 
as she wiped the tears from her eyes. 

“No, I have not heard anything, and I am convinced 
that my cousin is dead, for if he had been a prisoner of 
war he would have been exchanged long ago.” 

“I feel that he is alive— I cannot tear that hope from 
my heart. I am sure I shall see him once more!” cried 
Mrs. Graham passionately. 

“You would do well to accept the inevitable, and not 
indulge in so much septiment. In our days life is very 
practical, and we have but little room for romance.” 

For a moment there was a pause in the conversation, 
and Richard Arlington toyed with his watch chain and 
looked confused. At length he looked up abruptly and 
said : 

“I came here to-day to have a talk with you on busi- 
ness matters. My uncle made another will previous to 
his demise leaving me his entire fortune, with the excep- 
tion of a few legacies.” 

“I cannot believe that your uncle could be so unjust. 
He loved my husband far better than he did you, and 
during his life he always treated me as a daughter. The 
dear old gentleman was like a tender, loving father to 
me; therefore I cannot believe that he left me and this 
poor baby without means of support,” said Mrs. Graham 
excitedly. 


Laura graham. 


155 


“You can see his will in the surrogate’s office in New 
York if you doubt my word, madam. The late Mr. 
Arlington willed you five hundred dollars, to be paid you 
by me a month after his death, and for that purpose I 
am here to-day.” 

“Oh! what will become of me and my helpless boy?” 
asked the unfortunate woman. 

“I suppose you will have to go to work, like the rest 
of the Southern women,” coldly replied the heartless 
villain. 

To this Mrs. Graham made no reply. She was dazed 
by the magnitude of her misfortunes. 

“I have closed up the Fifth Avenue house, owing to 
the several cases of sickness and death. It has to be 
thoroughly disinfected, painted, and refurnished. If you 
feel inclined you can remain here for another week, until 
you arrange your plans for the future.” 

Mrs. Graham’s pale face flushed hotly. 

She arose, holding her child in her arms, and looking 
the unprincipled man full in the face, she said : 

“I shall return to New York to-morrow morning.” 

“In which case you will find your legacy very neces- 
sary.” 

As he said this, Richard Arlington arose, and going to 
the table he took out his pocketbook, opened it, and 
taking out a roll of bills, counted out five hundred dollars. 

“Richard Arlington, there is something very strange 
and unaccountable in this matter. I do not understand 
why your uncle should make such a will, for I know in 
the former one he left the estate equally divided between 
you and my husband; and he told me, a few weeks prior 
to my illness, that he intended to make another will ” 


156 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“Which he did three days before his death, ’ said 
Arlington, interrupting the indignant woman. 

“You are mistaken, sir. Your uncle intended to leavfe 
you only twenty thousand dollars, and the bulk of his 
estate was to be left to my husband if living; and if he 
were dead the entire fortune was to go to my son and 
myself, excepting ten thousand dollars which he intended 
to give to Madame Roland as a legacy.” 

For a moment the man trembled, for he had not 
dreamed that Laura Graham knew of his late uncle’s 
plans. 

By a great effort, he recovered his usual cool, insolent 
manner, and said to Mrs. Graham ; 

“The will he made is recorded, and it has been ac- 
cepted as his last one; therefore I believe I am justified 
in accepting my good fortune. I can assure you I did 
not try either to coerce or influence him in making me 
his legatee.” 

‘ ‘There is some great mystery in it, though, Mr. Arling- 
ton, that I cannot fathom; and if you have wronged me 
and my baby boy I leave you to God’s judgment,” re- 
plied Mrs. Graham. 

“It is useless for us to dispute about this affair, Mrs. 
Graham. Please sign this receipt, as I wish to catch the 
next train for the city,” said Richard Arlington, looking 
at his watch. 

Mrs. Graham signed the receipt, and her husband’s 
cousin, bowing most ceremoniously to her, took his hat 
and left the room. 

After a brief whispered conversation with Mrs. Enrich 
he got into the carriage which was waiting for him, and 
was driven to the station. 


LAURA GRAHAM. 


157 


The next morning, helped by Bertha, Mrs. Graham 
repacked the few effects she had taken from her trunks, 
and sent all her baggage to the depot. 

Then she asked Mrs. Enrich “if she had been 
employed by Mr. Arlington to attend her?” 

‘‘Yes, ma’am, he has paid me handsomely for taking 
care of you.” 

‘‘I thank you for all your kindness and attention to 
me during my illness,” said Mrs. Graham. 

And shaking hands with the doctor’s wife, she slipped 
a twenty-dollar note into Mrs. Enrich’s hand. 

‘‘Oh, thank you,” said the mercenary creature, for the 
present of a crisp banknote was very acceptable to her. 

Money was the only thing she cared for. 

Mrs. Graham then entered the waiting hack, and with 
her little son and his new nurse she drove to the Tarry- 
town depot, where she bought two tickets for New York. 

Poor lady! She was returning to the metropolis to 
fight a hard and unequal battle with the world. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


FIGHTING THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 

From the Grand Central Depot Mrs. Graham was 
driven to the St. Denis Hotel, where she remained for 
three weeks, owing to her little boy having a severe attack 
of croup. 

She became frightened at her rapidly diminishing 
purse, and hastily looked up a boarding house and re- 
moved thither. 

Mrs. Graham had been reared in the lap of luxury, 
therefore she had no idea of the value of money. 

The five hundred dollars which she had received from 
Richard Arlington were almost gone at the end of two 
months, and she was obliged to discharge the nurse, and 
hire rooms in a Second Avenue tenement house, where 
she lived under the name of Mrs. Norton. 

The family that had the rooms next to her consisted 
of a mother and her two daughters. 

Mrs. Mitchell was one of those genial, motherly women 
who made the best of her slender means. She had 
known better days during her husband’s lifetime, for he 
had been a carpenter, and earned good wages; but he 
liked to live respectably, and could only put by a few 
dollars, which hardly paid his funeral expenses, when 
he died suddenly of pneumonia. 

Mrs. Mitchell and Mrs. Graham became acquainted 

iS8 


FIGHTING THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 159 

through the illness of little Harry, who had another bad 
attack of croup a week after his mother moved into her 
poor quarters. 

Mrs. Graham, not having a dollar left, went, where 
many people obtain relief, to the pawnbroker’s, and she 
pawned every available article of wearing apparel that 
she could do without — all of her trinkets, except her 
diamond engagement ring and plain gold wedding 
ring. . 

Mrs. Mitchell, seeing the abject poverty to which her 
neighbor was reduced, asked Mrs. Graham one day if 
she could do fine needlework and embroidery. 

“I can do any sort of fancywork, and I would only 
be too glad to obtain any sort of sewing,” replied Mrs. 
Graham. 

“Well, then, I think my Hannah can get you a job. 
She is making the wedding outfit for a young lady who is 
going to be married. She wants some sacks braided, and 
a dozen nightgown yokes embroidered. She’s in a great 
hurry, and Hannah has all she can do to finish her outfit 
in time.” The good woman paused in the middle of 
her gossip as she perceived Mrs. Graham’s lack of 
interest in the bride. 

“Will you kindly get me this work?” asked the poor 
little woman as a gleam of hope darted through her 
heart. 

“How much will you charge for these yokes, Mrs. 
Norton?” 

“I do not know what prices are usually paid for such 
work, arid I am willing to be guided by what your 
daughter deems a fair recompense.” 

“Well, then, I will have Hannah tell Miss la Tour 


6o 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


that she has found a lady who will do the embroidery,” 
said the kind-hearted soul as she left the room, 
i Mrs. Graham sank on a chair overcome with the retro- 
spect of former days, and now she was about to become 
the seamstress of Edith la Tour. 

She was confident that she had acted wisely in chang- 
ing her name. 

It was a feeling of pride which had made her do so, 
for she could not bear that her husband’s former 
acquaintances or friends should discover that his wife 
had become almost a pauper. 

Mrs. Graham worked early and late embroidering 
Edith la Tour’s trousseau, and received seven dollars 
for her month’s hard work, though ten dollars were still 
due her. 

Hannah had asked several times for this money, but 
she had always been put off with some excuse. As Mrs, 
Graham did not wish to go in person for the money she 
had earned, she had to do without the ten dollars she 
had toiled for so hard. 

Mrs. Mitchell’s other daughter, Nancy, was a tailoress, 
and she taught Mrs. Graham how to make coats until she 
was a fairly good coat hand, and finally obtained employ- 
ment from a firm in the Bowery, though it was weary 
work for this refined woman, who now had to mingle 
with the sons and daughters of toil. 

Richard Arlington had told his friend and counselor 
Mr. Blake about Laura Graham’s knowledge of the late 
Mr. Arlington’s intentions regarding his last will, and 
the wily lawyer determined to hunt the defenseless 
woman down to the bitter end. 

One stormy night the lawyer went down to Baxter 


FIGHTING THE BATTLE OF LIFE. l6l 

Street to old Mother Gilbert’s well-known* saloon, where 
disreputable characters congregated,, and among them the 
jail bird for whom he was in search. 

John Blake had traced the unfortunate lady to her 
present humble home by the aid of a detective whom he 
paid and dismissed, for the work he now wanted done 
was of such a character that no honest man would under- 
take it. 

When Blake had found his man, and they were seated 
at one of the pine tables in the old woman’s den, the lawyer 
said to the ex-convict: 

“Dick, I’ve got you out of a number of scrapes; in 
fact, I’ve saved your neck from the gallows more than 
once, and now I want you to do me a favor. ’ ’ 

“All right, guv’nor, ’’ answered the fellow; “I am just 
out of Sing Sing, and ready for any scheme that there’s 
money in.’’ 

“Well, then, finish your glass of whisky and come with 
me. There is a dollar to pay old Mother Gilbert as we 
go out.’’ 

Dick paid for the drinks they had, and then left the 
place with the lawyer. The two men walked to the 
Bowery, and taking a Second Avenue car, rode uptown as 
far as Thirty-first Street. 

“Now come with me, as I have the number of the 
house,’’ said the lawyer. 

They found the door of the tenement house open, and 
meeting a woman carrying a market basket on the stairs, 
inquired of her if Mrs. Norton lived in that house. 

“Yes, sor. Third floor back,’’ answered the woman. 

“Now, Dick, go in and knock on the door and ask for 
Mrs. Graham— that is her real name; tell her that you 


i 62 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


met her husband in Richmond, and that he is alive; 
you’ve had a hard time to find her. Make up any story 
you like so long as you see the woman.” 

‘‘All right, guv’nor; I understand,” said the ex- 
convict. 

“I’ll wait downstairs by the door for you.” 

Dick Holton followed the lawyer’s instructions to the 
letter, and poor, confiding Mrs. Graham cried with joy, 
believing that he had been one of the men in her hus- 
band’s regiment. 

When Dick joined the lawyer they both laughed 
heartily at the success of their cold-blooded scheme. 

‘‘Now I want you to watch the house and follow that 
woman to where she is employed, and prevail on the man 
to give her no more work.” 

‘‘Suppose he will not listen to me.” 

‘‘Then just give him this,” said Blake, taking two 
fifty-dollar bills out of his pocketbook and handing 
them to Holton. ‘‘I guess you will find him willing 
enough to oblige you.” 

‘‘By Jove! guv’nor, a hundred dollars ought to pay 
him pretty well.” 

‘‘I should say so. You must watch her well after- 
ward, for unless she happens to be hired by somebody 
else she must go to the pawnbroker’s — they all do if they 
have anything left to pawn. Then you drop on her and 
claim the article as your property; that is, if it is any- 
thing you can make people believe is yours. If you suc- 
ceed in having her arrested I will give you five hundred 
dollars.” 

‘‘The money is wanted badly, guv’nor, but it strikes 
me that you’re rather hard on that woman.” 


FIGHTING THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 163 

“It don’t concern you if I am. If you want to earn 
the five hundred hold your tongue and obey my orders.” 

“So long as I get the cash I suppose it is none of my 
business, but hang me if I like to be hard on a woman,” 
said Dick, lighting a cigar. 

“The man or woman who stands in rny way must 
suffer^" was the lawyer’s reply. 

Dick made no answer, but he thought: 

“That woman must be a witness in a murder trial that 
is to come off soon, and he wants to get her out of the 
way. ’ ’ 

“Come to my office as soon as you have finished this 
business and you’ll get your money.” 

“All right, guv’nor; I’ll be on hand soon,” and the 
two unprincipled men parted. 

Two days after his interview with the lawyer Holton 
followed Mrs. Graham on her way downtown. 

She had a large bundle of coats in her arms, and stag- 
gered under their weight as she entered a car. 

Holton remained on the platform with the driver and 
watched the unsuspecting woman until she alighted. He 
went after her and saw her go into a tailoring establish- 
ment. 

Then he waited until she appeared again on the 
street, when he went into the shop and priced a gray 
tweed suit. 

“That suit, sir,” said the storekeeper, “I will sell you 
very cheap. Twenty dollars, and every thread of the 
cloth is real wool. Come down to the lower end of the 
store and I will suit you, sir. We have some of the 
finest goods in the city.” 

“Well, I don’t care about buying any clothes tO' 


164 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

day. I came here to see you on business. You have a 
woman in your employ by the name of Norton?” 

“Yes, sir. She is a coat hand, and a very good 
worker she is too.” 

‘‘I am sorry you like her work, for I am going to ask 
you to discharge her,” said Dick Holton, smiling 
blandly. 

“Well, you are a cool one to walk into my store and 
ask me to discharge the best and cheapest hand I have,” 
replied the tailor angrily. 

Dick Holton was determined to keep one of the fifty- 
dollar bills which the lawyer had given him, therefore he 
said: 

“I will make you a present of fifty dollars if you 
won’t give Mrs. Norton any more work for another 
month. ” 

“Now you talk more sensibly. I make very little 
money these times, sir, and I cannot refuse your offer, as 
it is only for a month and nearly all our season’s work is 
finished,” replied the tailor. 

“Well, there’s your money; just please write a receipt. 
Say: ‘Received from Dick Holton fifty dollars, for serv- 
ices rendered.’ ” 

The accommodating storekeeper wrote the receipt, 
and Dick put the receipt in his pocket and left the store, 
thinking: 

“I will copy that little document, and old Blake will 
never imagine I’ve knocked down fifty dollars.” 

That afternoon the ex-convict called on the lawyer 
and gave him the precious receipt. 

“Bravo, Holton! You have finished your work 
sooner than T thought you would. Now if you succeed 


FIGHTING THF BATTLE OF LIFE. 165 

in having her arrested and locked up I will give you a 
thousand dollars.” 

“All right, guv’nor ; but I wish it was a man you 
wanted sent to prison in place of that pretty young 
woman,” said Holton as he walked out of Mr. Blake’s 
office. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


OUT OF SING SING. 

Mrs. Graham being deprived of the work which she 
had received from the Bowery tailor, endeavored to 
obtain employment elsewhere, but as it was the latter 
part of July and the dull season for everything, she failed 
to get work of any sort. 

She was almost driven distracted by her fearful situa- 
tion, for she was behindhand with her rent, and she had 
no food to give her starving child except what her kind 
neighbors gave her. 

One day she left little Harry in Mrs. Mitchell’s care, 
and hastily putting on her bonnet and shawl, she started 
for a pawnshop in the Bowery to pledge the only article 
of value she now possessed, her diamond engagement 
ring. 

While she was walking down the Bowery Edward 
Osgood, just released from Sing Sing, was walking up 
Chatham Street toward the Bowery. He had had the 
usual two months deducted from his year’s sentence for 
good conduct. 

The very first person whom he met was his former 
friend Johnny Ryan. 

Edward did not recognize him at first, as the lad had 
grown so much and looked a very fair specimen of young 
American manhood. 


i66 


OUT OF SING SING. 167 

Johnny Ryan knew Edward Osgood at once, and 
grasping his hand warmly, he exclaimed : 

“By the Stars and Stripes, I swear I am glad to see 
you. When did you leave your country seat?’’ 

“I received my discharge yesterday.’’ 

“I always thought it was an infernal shame that you 
were ever sent there. I never doubted your honesty.’’ 

“My dear boy, you are right, but that old fox Blake 
wove a chain of circumstantial evidence that convicted 
me. What are you doing?’’ 

“I am on Herald. I learned shorthand after! 
left Blake, and got a job at reporting. Why, man, I 
have seen lots of fighting. I nearly had my head blown 
off by a shell when I was sent down the Potomac to hunt 
up news.” 

“I am glad you are alive, Johnny, for I can never 
thank you sufficiently for all your kindness to me during 
the terrible day of my trial, and also to my mother and 
sister.” 

“I saw your mother a few days before her death, and 
she told me she felt convinced that your innocence would 
yet be proved to the world.” 

“My mother was right, Johnny. I know that the brand 
of the felon will be taken from my brow, and if I live I 
shall unmask Blake’s infamous villainy.” 

“Of course you will, Osgood,” replied Johnny. 

‘ ‘You cannot imagine the agony which I endured when 
I thought of my blasted reputation. I have determined 
to enlist at once. Perhaps you can tell me where the 
nearest recruiting office is?” 

“I will go with you to one on the Bowery. The 
government is offering heavy bounties just now for men. 


l68 ROMANCE OF A DRV GOODS DRUMMER. 

“I do not need to be paid to do my duty, Ryan. You 
can show me the office as I am on my way to the pawn- 
broker’s. I must get a loan on my watch. Fortunate 
thing it is for me that I have one.” 

“Oh, bother, Osgood! Let me be your ‘uncle,’ ” and 
the noble, generous youth took out his pocketbook. 

Edward Osgood gently put up his hand and said ; 

“No, Johnny, I am under too many obligations to you 
already. I have heard from my sister how kind you 
were to my dying mother, and how often you left a bottle 
of wine for her with Ann.” 

“Pshaw, Osgood; that is not worth talking about.” 

“I want to see my sister and have a good long talk 
with her, then attend to some few private affairs, and 
after that I am ready to go into the army.” 

By this time they had come in sight of the three gilt 
balls. They both entered by the small door and stood 
in the dark passage near the small counter, and one of 
the pawnbroker’s clerks came forward and asked the 
young men what he could do for them. 

“I want to raise fifty dollars on my watch and chain,” 
said Osgood, unfastening his chain and taking his watch 
from his vest pocket, he handed both articles to the 
pawnbroker. 

The latter examined the watch carefully, and looked 
at the maker’s name and the works very closely. 

“Money is very scarce at present,” said he at last. 

“If it is half as close as you are it must be hard to 
get,” snapped Johnny Ryan. 

“I fancy you will have to turn in something more if 
you want fifty dollars.” 

“I paid two hundred dollars for the watch, and fifty 


OUT OF SING SING. 


169 


dollars for the chain, the year before my father failed, 
and I have never abused either of the articles. I am 
sure you have ample security in them for the amount I 
want.” 

“Well, I might perhaps deduct the interest for next 
month, and save you the trouble of calling to pay it.” 

“How much interest do you charge?” 

‘‘Thirty per cent., sir.” 

‘‘That’s moderate. Did you attend your own funeral 
when your conscience ceased to exist?” Johnny Ryan 
broke in sarcastically. 

‘‘The gentleman can take it or leave it, just as he 
pleases.” 

‘‘Hand it over. The money I must have, and there 
will be no difference a hundred years hence.” 

‘‘What name shall I put down in my book?” 

‘‘My name is Edward Osgood. It is an honest name 
and I am not ashamed of it.” 

While the pawnbroker was making out Osgood’s ticket 
Mrs. Graham walked into the loan office. 

She passed the two men, and went on up to the other end 
of the counter, where she caught at the rail for support, 
as she was faint from want of food. The clerk went for- 
ward to wait on her. 

‘‘If you please, sir, I would like you to loan me some 
money on this ring.” 

‘‘How much do you want to raise on it, madam?” 

‘‘As much as you can possibly advance,” answered 
Mrs. Graham, trying to control the weakness, which was 
almost overcoming her. 

The clerk showed the ring to the pawnbroker, who 
was copying Edward Osgood’s name and the number of 


1 70 THE ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

his watch on his ledger. They held a whispered con- 
versation over the jewel, and the clerk returned to the 
counter. 

“I can give you thirty dollars on this ring, madam. 

‘'Thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Graham, while a feeling 
of intense relief stole over her heart. Her first thought 
was for her child. 

‘‘Harry shall now have a nice supper, and some new 
clothes. ” 

Laura Graham had not perceived that Dick Hol- 
ton had followed her in, and a policeman was with 
him. 

When the pawnbroker gave the ticket to Osgood 
Johnny Ryan whispered to him: 

‘‘Do not go yet. I will have an item for the Herald 
if I am not mistaken.” 

The policeman leaned over the counter, and said to 
the pawnbroker: 

“I want to look over your books, and see what diamond 
rings were pawned to-day.” 

“We have not given any loans on diamond rings to- 
day. This is the first one offered to us,” answered 
the pawnbroker, showing Mrs. Graham’s ring to the 
policeman. 

“That ring belongs to me, sir,” said the lady. 

The policeman put out his hand. 

“Let us have a look at the ring.” 

He showed the flashing gem to Dick Holton, and 
asked him : 

‘‘Is that the ring you lost, sir?” 

‘‘It is exactly like the one I lost a few days ago,” re- 
plied the ex-convict. 


OUT OF SING SING. 


171 

“Oh, no, sir. That is impossible, for it was given to 
me by my husband before we were married.” 

“I see you’re a cool hand; but you cannot come that 
over me. I have seen the innocent dodge tried too often, 
young woman — so come along,” said the officer brutally, 
putting his hand on Mrs. Graham’s shoulder. 

‘ ‘Arrest me ! ” exclaimed the unfortunate woman, with 
quivering lips. ‘ ‘You surely do not take me for a thief? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘Of course I do, and for a regular sharp one too. This 
is not your first offense. I’ll be bound. You will appear 
against her, sir, won’t you?” said the policeman, turn- 
ing to Dick Holton, who paused a moment before he an- 
swered; but he wanted to get the money Blake had 
promised him, so at length he said: 

‘‘Certainly; it is my duty.” 

‘‘Oh, sir!” cried Laura Graham to him, clasping her 
hands wildly, and looking at her accuser with an expres- 
sion of horror on her worn face, ‘‘you surely cannot 
believe that this ring is yours.” 

‘‘Do not listen to her. They all try the compassionate 
dodge when they find their game is up,” said the hard- 
hearted officer. 

‘‘Merciful Heaven! I am not a thief!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Graham, half crazed with the horror of her situa- 
tion. 

‘‘Come on without any nonsense or I’ll put the brace- 
lets on you,” said the policeman, taking a pair of hand- 
cuffs from his pocket. 

Dick Holton had disguised himself before he started 
out that day to watch Mrs. Graham, as John Blake had 
suggested she might recognize him as the man who had 
called on her a few weeks previously. 


172 THE ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The sight of the handcuffs drove the unfortunate 
woman almost distracted, and breaking away from the 
policeman’s detaining hand, she threw herself on her 
knees at Holton’s feet. 

“Oh, sir! listen to me for one moment, I implore you. 
I swear by everything I hold sacred that the ring belongs 
to me. You perhaps have dear ones at home Avho may 
perchance find themselves compelled to beg for mercy, 
even as I do now. As you wish Heaven to deal with 
them, show me the mercy I plead for. I never com- 
mitted a theft in my life. My heart will break if I am 
disgraced and sent to prison.” 

“My good woman, you were caught pawning the stolen 
ring, you know.” 

‘‘Have you no friend who would be willing to come 

forward and prove the ring belongs to you, Mrs. ?” 

asked Edward Osgood, who, with his friend, had been an 
interested spectator to this little drama. 

‘‘Norton, sir. I once had friends, but few now,” an- 
swered the unhappy creature. 

Edward Osgood thought her voice sounded familiar ; 
but he did not recognize the woman, who called herself 
Norton, as Harry Graham’s wife. 

Her appearance, owing to her toil and privations, had 
greatly changed her; besides, he had only seen her two 
or three times when he called at the late Mr. Arlington’s to 
see Edith la Tour. It was the year in which little Harry 
was born, and Laura Graham went very little into society. 

It was strange that these two victims of John Blake 
should meet under such circumstances. Edward felt 
that the woman was innocent, and was strongly inter- 
ested in her behalf. 


OUT OF SING SING. 


173 


“Get up and move on. I cannot lose any more time 
with you. You ought to be halfway to the Tombs now,” 
said the representative of the law. 

But worn out by her intense excitement and want of 
nourishment, Laura Graham slipped to the floor — she 
had fainted. 

“You are a brute to treat a woman so!” exclaimed 
Edward as, aided by Johnny Ryan and the pawn- 
broker, he raised Mrs. Graham. 

They bathed her face and forced some water into 
her mouth, w’hich revived her. 

Edward Osgood, who had been looking intently at 
Dick Holton, suddenly whispered to him: 

“Dick Jones, alias Holton, I remember you. We 
both spent a few months at the Hotel de Sing Sing. I 
served out my time and was discharged. You escaped 
before your term expired. There is some mystery about 
this ring business; I believe it is a put up job between 
you and some other scoundrel on that woman.” 

“What do you want me to do?” asked the ex-convict, 
turning pale as he recognized the man at his side. 

“I want you to tell the truth!” cried Edward 
emphatically. 

Dick, finding the game was up, turned to the pawn- 
broker and said : 

“Please show me that ring again. I may be mistaken. 
The letters ‘H. H.’ were engraved on the diamond ring 
I had stolen, and I thought this woman looked like the 
seamstress my wife employed.” 

The pawnbroker took his magnifying glass and exam- 
ined the ring critically. 


174 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“There are no initials engraved on this one,” said he, 
showing it to the policeman. 

“Then I have made a mistake. The ring is not 
mine!” 

“You ought not to have accused the woman without 
being positive,” said the officer as he turned on his heel 
and walked out of the shop, followed by Dick Holton. 

Mrs. Graham turned to Edward, laid her trembling 
hand on his arm, and said: 

“May Heaven reward you for your kindness to me 
this day.” 

“I simply did my duty, madam,” said Osgood, bow- 
ing as he passed out of the loan office with his friend. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A FASHIONABLE MAN AND WIFE. 

Edith la Tour had been Richard Arlington’s wife 
for nearly three months. 

She had had a fashionable wedding in April at Grace 
Church, followed by a reception at her mother’s resi- 
dence. 

The happy couple had enjoyed their honeymoon tour, 
and when they returned to the late Mr. Arlington’s Fifth 
Avenue mansion they gave a dinner to their numerous 
friends. 

Madame la Tour had schemed to bring about this mar- 
riage from the time she discovered Richard Arlington 
had inherited his deceased uncle’s wealth. 

She knew he had always admired Edith, and she 
noticed how jealous he was of Edward Osgood during 
her daughter’s engagement to that unfortunate young 
man. 

Madame la Tour was thoroughly satisfied with her 
daughter’s marriage, and she was proud of the fact that, 
as the mother-in-law of one of New York’s millionaires, 
her own social position would be greatly elevated. 

This worldly minded woman believed wealth to be the 
only source of happiness ; she worshiped the gold which 
could purchase satins and diamonds for her beautiful 
daughter and herself. 

175 


176 ROMANCE OE A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The 25th of July, 1862, was a sultry day in New 
York City, but on the banks of the Hudson the air 
was cool and refreshing. 

The waters of the American Rhine rippled in the glow 
of yellow and crimson light which came and went in 
flashes on the crests of the waves. 

Steamers crowded with passengers and freight on their 
way to or from Albany and other towns were seen pass- 
ing up and down the river. 

When the New York boat stopped at Tarrytown Mrs. 
Graham, shabbily dressed, and looking wretchedly ill, 
got off and took the road leading to the Arlington country 
seat, which was now occupied by Richard Arlington and 
his wife. 

After breakfasting in her own apartments Mrs. Arling- 
ton, robed in a dainty white wrapper, trimmed with 
expensive lace, and fastened at the throat with a knot of 
pale blue satin ribbon, entered the library, and throwing 
herself on a low couch, commenced cutting the leaves of 
the latest novel with a mother-of-pearl paper cutter. 

Her husband came in soon after her, in dressing gown 
and slippers. 

He kissed his beautiful wife as he asked her: 

“What is your programme for to-day, Edith?” 

“I am going to ride with Mr. Hoffman,” replied Mrs. 
Arlington. 

“I am sorry to tell you that I cannot accompany you, 
for I am going up the river in the yacht with Mr. Blake 
this afternoon. I expect: him by the three o’clock 
train. ” 

“You should go out oftener with me, my dear, to avoid 
scandal. You know I do not care for your society very 


A FASHIONABLE MAN AND WIFE. 1 77 

much myself, but people will talk, and it is best to be 
prudent.” 

“Why, Edith, who has been telling you any news?” 

“My dear Richard, I am perfectly well aware of your 
flirtations. Why, I found a note from Mademoiselle 
Aubery on your dressing table yesterday. Don’t be 
alarmed. I am not in the least jealous.” 

“You would be very unreasonable if you were, dear 
Edith, as you know you are welcome to flirt with whom 
you please, providing you do not involve yourself in any 
scandal — I am not bear enough to object. You are 
beautiful and you are very much admired. Why, the 
last time I met Dick Hobberton he just raved about 
your beauty. He said you were the handsomest woman 
at Mrs Mayard’s garden party.” 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Edith merrily. “Why, Richard, 
I think your friend, without exception, is the ugliest man 
in our set.” 

“Poor Hobberton would not feel happy if he heard 
your frank opinion. Has Kate given you the check 
which I gave her to take to you this morning?” 

“She did, but you will have to let me have another 
to-morrow, for J owe Madame Celeste six hundred dol- 
lars, and I cannot put her off any longer; besides, there 
are any number of small bills.” 

“Edith, you are enough to drive a man to ruin. I 
gave you five hundred dollars to-day, and now you say 
you need more.” 

“And I must have it. You buy mademoiselle ten 
thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds and complain when 
I ask you for enough money to dress decently.” 

“At this rate it will cost twenty thousand dollars a 


lyS ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

year to purchase your clothes. You must be the very 
best customer the Jones Bros, have.” 

“You are mistaken, I do not spend as much as some 
of our set. ’ ’ 

‘‘Pshaw! you women are deuced expensive affairs,” 
Richard pettishly rejoined. 

‘‘I suppose you find them so, especially your ‘dear 
friend’ Aubery,” retorted Edith sarcastically, and 
walked out of the room. 

‘‘If that woman were not my wife 1 would fall in 
love with her; she’s so cool about everything,” said 
Richard aloud as he lit a cigar and took up the morning 
paper. 

On the other side of the Arlington villa, near the main 
entrance, a pretty girl, about seventeen years old, was 
picking raspberries, which she laid in a small basket. 

Her dark brown hair was a mass of clustered curls, and 
there was a merry twinkle in her blue eye as she caught 
a glimpse of a young man coming down the pathway. 

She jumped up and put down her basket, smoothed 
her hair, put on her hat, and tossing her head coquet- 
tishly, waited until he came toward her. 

‘‘Good-morning, Mr. Ryan, I am delighted to see 
you.” 

“Good-morning, Kate. I had some business up in 
this part of the country, so I thought I would hunt you 
up,” he said as he shook hands with the pretty young 
girl. 

Kate blushed, but to cover her confusion — for she 
w'as surprised and pleased to see the young reporter — 
she asked Johnny how he liked the grounds. 

‘‘Mr. Arlington has a fine place up here. I say, Kate, 


A FASHIONABLE MAN AND WIFE. 179 

you are getting so stylish since you came to live with 
Mrs. Arlington I can hardly believe you are the little 
seamstress who used to live in my aunt’s house.” 

“Time changes us all, Mr. Ryan,” replied the girl as 
she tossed the curls back from her face. 

‘‘By the Stars and Stripes! it has altered you. I 
should think you would find it rather dull up here?” 

‘‘Yes; I miss my Thursdays out. I have not been to 
a theater for a whole two months.” 

“Why don’t you come down to the city, Kate? I 
would take you everywhere.” 

‘‘It is not considered good form to visit the city in 
July,” Kate demurely answered. 

‘‘Oh! Then, I suppose, I am getting too commom 
to associate with. Probably that queer-looking flunkey 
that I caught talking to you the last time I was here has 
something to do with your feeling so contented this sum- 
mer in the country.” 

‘‘I suppose you mean Mr. Murphy, who is the Hoff- 
mans’ coachman. I give you to understand that he is 
no flunkey. What are you but a typesetter?” asked the 
young girl as a light sneer curled her lips. 

“Oh, it takes brains to set type, and I doubt if that 
flunkey can write his own name. Besides, I want you 
to understand that I belong to the press — I am a 
reporter.” 

‘‘Perhaps Mr. Murphy knows as much as some who 
pretend to know much more.” 

‘‘If that is your mind, my girl, you will never clap 
eyes on me again. I’ll ask our editor to send me to the 
front as a war correspondent, and I’ll get my head blown 
off; then my ghost will haunt you,” cried the young man, 


l8o ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

walking down the path toward the gate with rapid 
strides. 

Kate impulsively ran after him, saying: 

“Ah! oh! don’t go!” 

When she cauglit up to him she seized his coat tails, 
and hung on them with all her strength. 

A merry twinkle sparkled in Johnny’s eyes in spite of 
his former indignation, for in this way he had brought 
the little coquette to terms, but he exclaimed in a semi- 
tragic tone: 

“I’ll fill a soldier’s grave, and ” 

‘‘Oh, don’t, don’t!” cried Kate, pulling him back. 
“Why do you let the green-eyed monster take possession 
of you?” 

“I’ll banish the green-eyed monster if you will promise 
me not to flirt with that jockey any more,” retorted the 
young man. 

“I will never speak to him again if that will satisfy 
you; but you must not enlist,” said Kate. 

“Do not be so foolish. I serve my country just as 
well with my reporter’s pencil as most of the boys do by 
shouldering a musket. I was down at Harper’s Ferry a 
few weeks ago to get a special report. I went out with 
several scouts and. caught a few bullets in my hat.” 

“O Johnny, you might have been killed!” cried the 
warm-hearted girl, her eyes filling with tears. 

“And you would have been sorry, Kate?” and Johnny 
caught her in his arms. He had read the story of her 
affection in her eyes. 

At that moment the bell attached to the entrance gate 
rang out, and Kate started from the support of her lover’s 
arms. 


A FASHIONABLE MAN AND WIFE. l8l 

“Oh, there are some visitors,” she said. 

“Go and open the gate. I’ll hide behind one of these 
large oak trees until you have shown them into the house, 
and then you can return,” said the reporter as he disap- 
peared behind a group of trees that were planted each 
side of the pathway. 

Mrs. Graham entered when Kate opened the gate. 

The unfortunate lady was exhausted by her long walk 
in the scorching sun, and sat down on the first garden 
seat she came to. 

“Please tell Mrs. Arlington a lady wishes to see her on 
business.” 

“Mrs. Arlington told me to tell anyone who might call 
that she was not at home.” 

“Please take her this bill for me. Tell her that I need 
the money, and that I have come all the way from New 
York to collect it.” 

Johnny Ryan peeped cautiously at Mrs. Graham, and 
muttered under his breath: 

“By the Stars and Stripes! I swear if it is not the 
same woman that Osgood saved from being arrested in 
the pawnshop.” 

Mrs. Graham, unconscious of being overheard, uttered 
her thoughts aloud: 

“How humiliating it is to come here for a miserable 
pittance due me. Ah! poor Harry’s uncle made a 
strange will.” 

Kate returned at this moment, saying: 

“Mrs. Arlington told me to tell you that she cannot 
attend to your bill this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Graham arose, and the tears gathered in her eyes 
as she asked Kate: 


lS2 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“Did you tell her I needed the money?” 

“Indeed I did, ma’am, but she scolded me for disturb- 
ing her,” replied the girl. 

While this conversation was going on Richard Arlington 
came down the walk, and started in surprise when he recog- 
nized Mrs. Graham, and inadvertently he exclaimed: 

“Cousin Laura! ” 

Kate was astonished, but she left the two standing to- 
gether, and went up the path muttering: 

“She’s my gentleman’s cousin and my lady’s seam- 
stress. Well, poor folks can put up with poor folks, but 
rich folks don’t care to know the poor folks that belong 
to them.” 

Thinking that Johnny had gone around to the back of 
the villa, she turned into a side path that led thither, 
hoping to meet him. 

Richard Arlington still stood gazing at his cousin’s 
wife, utterly unable to recover from his astonishment. 

“You are surprised to meet me here,” said Mrs. Gra- 
ham after a moment’s silence. 

“Upon my word, Laura, you forget ” 

“I forget nothing, sir. When your uncle died I was 
too ill to know what took place. I suppose you induced 
your friend John Blake to extort a will from the old 
gentleman when his brain had become weakened by 
fever, for I cannot believe he intentionally left my boy 
unprovided for. Your uncle’s last will which made 
you his sole heir was not a just one, and if I had the 
means I should make the courts decide between us,” said 
the unfortunate woman, with flashing eyes and flushed 
cheeks, as she thought of the injustice with which her 
child and herself had been treated. 


A FASHIONABLE MAN AND WIFE. 183 

“I am glad you have not the means to contest my 
uncle’s will, as I detest lawsuits, especially with women,” 
replied the unfeeling man, smiling at the woman whom 
he had defrauded. 

‘‘You wished to grasp the poor old man’s wealth, and 
you have succeeded, but Providence will yet punish you 
for the part which you have acted toward me.” 

Arlington looked confused, but took out his cigar case 
and commenced smoking. 

After two or three puffs of the Havana he coolly 
said: 

‘‘My dear Laura, pray do not be so violent, for my 
wife might hear you. You know it would be deuced ly 
unpleasant if she discovered you in such a shabby cos- 
tume. ” 

‘‘It might be unpleasant for the aristocratic Mrs. 
Arlington to see a member of her husband’s family so 
humbly clad; but, sir, this is the first time I have ever 
been informed that a Parisian toilet had anything to do 
with the requirements of a lady. I am here, sir, to see 
your wife on business. As I cannot see her, I trust you 
will do me an act of justice.” 

‘‘Certainly, certainly, Laura,” answered Richard 
Arlington, hastily taking out his purse. “I was just 
going to give you five dollars, for I have no doubt that is 
what you came to ask me for; but you must not come 
here again, as I cannot afford to throw my money away 
foolishly!” 

‘‘I am not a beggar, Richard Arlington! How dare 
you insult me? I did not come here to implore alms, 
but to demand payment from your wife for some em- 
broidery which I did for her months ago.” 


184 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“Good gracious, Cousin Laura! you do not mean to 
say that you sew for a living! I declare I am positively 
shocked! “ 

“You may well be surprised — I might say ashamed — to 
know that I wanted for bread while you were squander- 
ing thousands. I never implored your aid but once, and 
that was when illness prevented me from earning a cent. 
I wrote to you, and asked your assistance. You returned 
my letter unopened “ 

“As I have an engagement, Mrs. Graham, I shall be 
obliged to dispense with the pleasure of your society. 
How much does my wife owe you?” 

“Ten dollars, sir; there’s the bill,” said Mrs. Graham, 
as she handed him a written statement of the items of the 
work. 

“As I do not approve of Mrs. Arlington having one of 
my relatives for a seamstress, you must seek employment 
elsewhere,” said the heartless society man, counting out 
the amount of Mrs. Graham’s bill, which he made her 
receipt. 

“I shall never intrude my presence on you again, 
sir; but, remember my words — Providence will avenge 
my wrongs!” and, folding her shabby mantle around 
her, Laura Graham walked down the pathway with an 
erect head and dignified step, for her Southern blood 
boiled at the insolence of the cowardly millionaire. 

As soon as she was out of sight, Richard Arlington 
threw himself on a garden seat and exclaimed: 

“By Jove! it was lucky my mother-in-law was not at 
home, or she would have discovered everything!” 

Johnny Ryan had made a careful shorthand report of 
the conversation which he had just overheard, and he 


A FASHIONABLE MAN AND WIFE. 1 85 

was now wishing Arlington would go into the house and 
release him from his hiding place, when a loud, impa- 
tient ring announced another visitor, who shortly 
appeared, walking at a rapid pace, and the reporter rec- 
ognized his former employer, the lawyer. 


CHAPTER XXL 


FACE TO FACE. 

The lawyer shook hands with his host, saying: 

“1 found I could get away a few hours earlier, and 
here I am.” 

“I am very glad to see you. I have just parted from 
Mrs. Graham. You must have passed her on the road.” 

‘T saw a shabbily dressed woman, but I did not notice 
her particularly,” replied the lawyer. 

‘‘I never was so surprised to meet anyone in my life. 
She actually gave me to understand that I was a ” 

“Rascal, without doubt,” laughed the legal gentle- 
man. 

“By Jove! Blake, you might be civil, for you have 
made a good thing out of it.” 

“I always make a good thing, my dear Arlington; for 
you know in the market of life there is no costlier com- 
modity than brains. I have done my best to get a good 
price for my wares, and I have succeeded.” 

“I hardly like the turn affairs have taken,” said 
Arlington as he offered his cigar case to his friend. 

John Blake took a cigar and lit it before he asked: 

“What do you mean?” 

“Mrs. Graham suspects that there is something wrong 
about my late uncle’s will. You know she always did.” 

Johnny Ryan was listening attentively to this, and tak- 


186 


FACE TO FACE. 187 

ing a report of the conversation for future reference. 
He thought: 

“These two rascals will betray themselves.” 

“Suppose that Mrs. Graham and Osgood meet?” said 
Arlington as a shade of anxiety passed over his face. 

“They might give us some trouble, for Osgood is 
posted regarding the laws of this State. If they did 
meet the surrogate would have one of the best cases 
that he ever handled. That is my legal opinion.” 

“Upon my word, Blake, you take matters very coolly. 
Could the will be broken?” 

“My dear boy, there’s hardly a will made that cannot 
be broken; but I do not anticipate any trouble. You 
might be the subject of some unpleasant gossip; but who 
would believe a discharged convict? So long as Madame 
Roland is safe in Woodbine Asylum what have we to 
fear?” 

Johnny Ryan could hardly control himself as he wrote 
down the words “Woodbine Asylum”; but there was yet 
another surprise in store for the young man. 

The bell again announced a visitor. 

Mr. Arlington called to Kate as she was passing him 
to answer it : 

“Tell whoever it is that I am engaged.” 

Kate opened the door and delivered lier master’s 
message. 

“I must see Mr. Arlington. I came from New York 
to call on him,” said the stranger, gently putting the girl 
aside, and walking up the pathway, stood in front of 
the two men who had so greatly wronged him. 

Both the lawyer and his friend started to their feet, 
exclaiming, ‘ ‘ Osgood ! ’ ’ 


i88 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


Arlington recovered his presence of mind in a moment, 
and turning to the astonished waiting maid, said: 

‘ ‘ Show that man out ! ’ ’ 

“That man can show himself out when he has had a 
little conversation with these gentlemen. You may 
retire,’’ said Osgood to Kate; and then, folding his arms 
and looking at the two men, addressed them : 

“ You see a year of hard labor in Sing Sing has not 
killed me.’’ 

“Please inform us what your business is at once.’’ 

“John Blake, you are a cool scamp. I believe his 
Satanic majesty has given you a diploma since you forged 
a certain will.’’ 

“Forged!” cried the lawyer, turning pale. 

“Yes, sir. You forged the will under which your 
friend Arlington was made his uncle’s heir.” 

The attorney looked at the man who had been his vic- 
tim, but his conscience did not reproach him, though 
there were threads of silver mingled in the dark locks of 
Edward Osgood’s hair. 

The expression of the young man’s face had changed, 
and there was a strong determination marked on the 
lines of his countenance which boded e-’dl to his 
enemies. 

John Blake felt he had a strong, determined man to 
cope with now, and so prepared to fight the battle to the 
bitter end. 

“I think your imprisonment, Osgood, has affected your 
brain.” 

“And without doubt, sir, you would be pleased if I 
were deprived of my reason. I am not physically what 
I was a year ago, but, thank kind Providence, my men- 


FACE TO FACE. 


89 


tal faculties are unimpaired. I thought Madame Roland 
was honest and would remain faithful to her dead master’s 
trust. You may have bought her silence, or perhaps put 
her out of the way, for I know, John Blake, you would 
not hesitate to murder a troublesome witness. I have 
sworn to unmask you, and if I live I shall find the way 
to prove your dishonor.” 

‘‘Pshaw! Who would believe a felon?” sneered the 
lawyer. 

For a moment the hot, indignant blood rushed to the 
young man’s face, dyeing even his brow. 

He breathed hard and clinched his hands, and for a 
second raised his right arm as if about to strike his 
cowardly foe, but by a mighty effort of his wall he con- 
trolled himself. 

‘‘John Blake, if the truth w’ere known you would be 
in Sing Sing, while I, who was sent there through your 
machinations, would hold up my head among honest 
men. ” 

Richard Arlington, who had been smoking to hide his 
embarrassment, took his Havana from his mouth and 
coolly remarked: 

‘‘There — there, my good fellow, don’t be violent.” 

‘‘Beware! Richard Arlington, that you arouse not the 
sleeping demon within me, for through you and yonder 
wretch I have suffered such wrongs that few men live to 
endure. It was through you that my beautiful sister’s 
head was bowed in shame. It was through you that my 
mother went to her grave, a broken-hearted woman, 
because she could not survive my disgrace; and if it 
were not for her dying request I would take your worth- 
less lives.” 


190 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“My dear fellow, those who threaten are not to be 
feared,” said Arlington contemptuously. 

‘‘Do not try my patience too long, for forbearance will 
cease to be a virtue.” 

‘‘Osgood, do you really imagine anyone would believe 
you under oath?” 

‘‘John Blake, you know I am innocent, yet you dare 
to ask me such a question. No one realizes what it is to 
have the felon’s brand on my brow more than I; and 
when I think that henceforth the prison’s infamy will be 
my inheritance, I feel tempted to strangle you!” cried 
the excited man, catching hold of his dastardly foe by 
the throat, and shaking him as if he were a child, then 
throwing him from him in disgust. 

‘‘You are not worth an honest man’s life. I will not 
dye my hands with your blood, but I shall find some other 
means to right my wrongs.” 

Richard Arlington looked on with an amused smile, 
for in his heart he detested the lawyer who had made him 
his tool. 

He would have rejoiced if Edward Osgood had mur- 
dered John Blake, and so rid him of his disagreeable 
presence forever. 

“May I inquire why you have intruded your unwel- 
come presence upon us?” asked the millionaire 
haughtily. 

‘‘I came here to demand justice for the helpless woman 
you robbed.” 

‘‘Do you mean my cousin’s wife, Mrs, Graham?” 

‘‘I do.” 

‘‘She is dead, sir.” 

' ‘It is false,” 


FACE TO FACE. 


I9I 

Mr. Arlington’s carriage was driven up to the gate to 
take him down to the river to his yacht, as he did not 
care to exert himself walking. 

“Come with me,” he said to Edward Osgood, “and I 
will show you her grave. We can drive past the burying 
ground on our way to the river. If Mr. Osgood cares to 
see Mrs. Graham’s grave I will show it to him.” 

“Yes, I would like to see where she is buried,” said the 
young man, feeling strangely bewildered. 

They entered the waiting carriage and drove through 
to a charming and picturesque road, which led to the 
cemetery, which has become famous as the last resting 
place of Washington Irving. 

When they arrived at the cemetery Richard Arlington 
told the driver to stop, and they all alighted. 

At the entrance is a small chapel, built in the style of 
our Dutch ancestors. 

Though the day was warm, there was a cool breeze 
which swayed the branches of the trees until they sang a 
lullaby; and the air was perfumed by the fragrance of a 
thousand flowers. 

Edward Osgood thought there would be no more 
delightful spot to sleep the last slumber than in this old 
Tarrytown burying ground. 

Arlington led his companions to the hilly part of the 
cemetery, and he walked toward a granite slab which was 
set on a rising slope of ground. 

The grass was freshly cut, and two heavily laden rose 
bushes stood on each side of it. 

“There is Mrs. Graham’s last resting place,” said 
Richard Arlington, pointing to the tombstone. 

Edward Osgood could hardly believe the evidence of 


192 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

his eyes, and imagined for a moment that he might be 
the victim of some optical delusion, as he read: 

In Memory of 
LAURA GRAHAM, 

Widow of Captain Harry Graham, 

Who Departed this Life on June 5, 1861. 

Aged Twenty-seven Years and Three Months. 

And at the bottom of the slab was : 

HARRY GRAHAM, 

Infant Son of the Late Harry and Laura Graham. 

Died June 10, 1861. 

Aged Two Years, Two Months, and Twenty-one Days. 

“How did they die?” asked the perplexed man in a 
low tone of voice. 

“From the fever which Mrs. Graham caught during 
her trip to Washington. She was ill for months. We 
brought her here for change of air. She became better, 
but soon took a relapse and died suddenly. Little Harry 
caughi the fever from his mother, as she insisted upon 
seeing him before her death, and in this manner com- 
municated the disease to him, for the little fellow died 
five days afterward. I trust I have gratified your curi- 
osity, and that you see I have committed no fraud by 
taking possession of my late uncle’s fortune.” 

“I am sorry that I wronged you, Mr. Arlington, 
but ” 

“Let us drop the subject. Remember to be more 
careful in the future, especially when you insult a man 
regarding his family affairs. Come, Blake, if we are 
going to have a sail we had better hurry, as I think we 
are going to have a thunder shower,” said the million- 


FACE TO FACE. 


193 


aire, walking down the path which led to the cemetery 
gate. 

“Farewell, Osgood. You see I have won the game,” 
exclaimed the wily lawyer, laughing sarcastically. 

“Yes, you have won — curse you!” cried the baffled 
and persecuted man, feeling that his enemies had de- 
feated him. 

He turned from the granite slab with a sad heart and 
hurriedly left the cemetery. 


CHAPTER XXTT. 


A STRANGE MEETING. 

When Mr. Arlington’s carriage drove away the re- 
porter emerged from his hiding place, and Kate, who 
had come hastily down the walk looking for him, was 
surprised to see Johnny walking with rapid strides to- 
ward the entrance gate. 

“ Where are you going ? ” demanded Kate, running 
up to him. 

“ To the cemetery.” 

“ Merciful Peter ! What do you want to go there 
for?” 

“ Oh, for a little information. Do you know in what 
direction Mrs. Graham’s tombstone lies ? ” 

“ Yes, it is up on the hill. The gardener planted 
some rose bushes there this summer and I went over 
there with him.” 

“ Thank you, Kate. Kiss me good-by, like a good 
girl, and come down to New York and make my aunt a 
visit soon. I have a great deal to say to you, but I am 
too busy to-day to enjoy your society — so good-by.” 

Johnny snatched a kiss from the pretty young girl, 
who was too surprised to speak, as he walked rapidly 
down the road on his way to the burying ground. 

Johnny Ryan was a natural born reporter, and like 
all good news gatherers he had the keen scent of the 
detective. 


194 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


195 


He had seen Mrs. Graham, and he had overheard sev- 
eral strange conversations that morning, and conse- 
quently was very much interested in the whole affair. 

So, soon as he came in sight of the graveyard, he wan- 
dered up to the hill, and with ease found the tombstone. 
He took down a copy of the inscription on the granite 
slab in his notebook. He next wandered toward the 
old Dutch chapel, and at the door he met an old man, 
who was in the act of locking it up, for of late years this 
chapel was only used for burial services. 

“ May I haye a few words with you, sir ? ” Johnny 
politely asked. 

“ Certainly, sir, if you will walk into the chapel and 
sit down. Yoq will find it more comfortable than stand- 
ing here in the sun,” said the sexton, opening the door 
which he had just locked and leading the way to a 
pew. 

‘‘Will you kindly remember if on June 6 or 7, 1861, 
you had the body of a lady, Mrs. Harry Graham, 
interred in this cemetery ? ” 

“ No. sir. I remember no such burial ; but come with 
me. We have a record of every person buried in this 
cemetery for the last thirty years,” replied the sexton ; 
he continued : “ I will hunt up the record for you for 
1861. Was the lady a relative of yours ? ” 

“ No, sir, she was not. Believe me, I am not prompted 
by idle curiosity in this matter. I wish to establish the 
fact of her interment in this cemetery.” 

The old man entered his office, and throwing open a 
window, let the sunshine stream into the room. He took 
several books off the shelf, and at last he found the 
one for which he was searching. 


196 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

After looking over the book carefully he could not 
find Mrs. Graham’s name. 

“ Humph ! ” said he, “ I cannot find any record of her 
burial here.” 

“ Yet her gravestone stands in the late Mr. Arlington’s 
lot.” 

“ Yes — yes. 1 now remember the tombstone that 
young Mr. Arlington erected in memory of his cousin’s 
wife. She and her son died in Washington of some sort 
of contagious fever, and she was buried there.” 

“ Now will you be good enough to inform me who 
told you that Mrs. Graham died in Washington ? ” 

“ Certainly, sir. It was Mr. Arlington himself, when he 
had the granite slab put up. He is the only one left of 
the old family. 

“ It is too bad his cousin was killed at Manassas, for 
he was a much greater favorite with everyone than Mr. 
Richard Arlington.” 

As the old man was speaking, the little chapel 
was illumined by several flashes of lightning, fol- 
lowed by loud claps of thunder, and the rain came 
down in torrents ; so the reporter lingered, and con- 
tinned talking with the old sexton, who gave him a 
great many interesting facts regarding Tarrytown and 
its inhabitants. 

In the meanwhile Edward Osgood was pacing the 
parlor of the little hotel that fronted on the river, near 
the boat landing, wondering what in the world had be- 
come of Johnny Ryan, who had promised to meet him 
there, as Osgood had not wanted his friend to accom- 
pany him to Arlington villa. 

He never suspected that the reporter had ever visited 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


197 


the house, or that Johnny was acquainted with anyone 
living there. 

While Edward Osgood was waiting impatiently for his 
friend a gentleman and lady on horseback rode up to 
the door of the hotel. 

The lady’s horse appeared to be lame, and the gentle- 
man helped its rider to alight. A groom attached to 
the inn led the horse away to the stable. The lady’s 
escort mounted his horse again as soon as his compan- 
ion was under shelter, and he threw a coin to the lad 
who had been holding the bridle. 

I had better ride back to the villa and send a car- 
riage for you. I will also send for a veterinary surgeon, 
as it is hard to tell how severely the pony is injured. I 
will send one of your men.” 

“ But you will be drenched if you ride through this 
storm,” said the lady, standing on the porch. 

“ It is better for me to get a soaking than for you to 
remain in your wet habit ; besides, as soon as I send some 
assistance to you I can ride home and change my clothing.” 

“ Very well, Mr. Hoffman ; if you will promise to con- 
sider your own health after you have sent the carriage 
to me I shall be very grateful for your kind offices. I 
expect I shall get a good scolding from Richard for tak- 
ing our disastrous ride.” 

“ Oh, I will shoulder the blame, and if you do not 
catch cold I shall be thankful,” answered Mr. Hoffman, 
as he gracefully bowed to the lady, who was still stand- 
ing on the hotel porch. 

After the gentleman had galloped away the lady came 
into the parlor, holding up her skirt in one hand, and in 
the other she held her jeweled riding whip. 


198 THE ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

She looked as perfect a picture of a beautiful woman 
as ever the human eye rested upon. 

Her cheeks were flushed with exercise, and her golden 
hair, with its rippling waves, clustered around her fair 
brow, under her coquettish riding hat. Her brilliant 
dark eyes glanced carelessly around the little apartment 
until she saw the gentleman who had been standing by 
the window turn suddenly and come toward her. 

“ Edward,” she exclaimed letting her riding whip fall 
on the floor, and staggering toward a chair for support. 

“ Edith,” cried her former lover as he came toward 
her and caught her hands, but she shrunk back and 
shivered as she felt the old familiar clasp. ‘‘ Edith, my 
darling, don’t repulse me. You cannot believe I was 
guilty. Don’t shrink from me, dear. I am innocent ; I 
swear it ! ” 

“ O Edward, you \yere sent to Sing Sing.” 

“ Yes, Edith, because I was John Blake’s victim. You 
never could think me guilty. Edith, my love, I know it 
was your mother’s influence that kept you from writing 
me one line of sympathy. I have searched the city to 
find you, dear, but no one seemed willing to tell me what 
had become of you. My darling, I am glad to see you 
once more ! ” 

And the great noble-hearted fellow attempted to take 
her in his arms. His love had not changed, and he could 
not imagine that Edith’s affection had been alienated 
from him. 

“ Go ! Leave me, I implore you ! Go ! ” cried the 
unhappy woman nervously. 

“ Do you believe me guilty — you, the woman whom 
I have loved and trusted ? You did not of your own 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


199 


accord turn from me when I lost my fortune, but you do 
now." 

“ Oh, have pity on me ! ” cried Mrs. Arlington, weep- 
ing wildly. 

“ I forgot I was a discharged convict — that the shadow 
of my disgrace separates us," said Edward bitterly. 

“ No — no — Edward — I never believed you to be guilty. 
I could not do so, knowing you were the soul of honor, 
but " — she stammered — “ I — am — a wife ! " 

“ A wife ! You a wife !" exclaimed Edward Osgood 
as the blood rushed to his face for a moment and then 
receded, leaving him ghastly pale. 

His feelings overpowered him, and he harshly de- 
manded : 

“ Whose wife have you dared to become ? Quick ! 
Tell me the man’s name you bear." 

“ I married Richard Arlington three months ago," an- 
swered Edith, blushing painfully, as she acknowledged 
the truth. 

“ So he dared to rob me of you. O Edith ! Edith ! I 
thought you loved me. I hoped, in spite of my poverty 
— my disgrace — that you would cherish our love. I 
would have clung all the closer to you if you had been 
in my place. What is a woman’s love worth ? It is 
purchased every day with man’s gold. The only earthly 
idols women like you really prize are satins with which 
to array themselves, or diamonds that sparkle and glitter 
on your vain persons. These are your gods ! ’’ ex- 
claimed Edward passionately. 

“Don’t be too hard on me, Edward. My mother gave 
me no peace,’’ and the unhappy woman sobbed as if 
for the first time in her life she realized that devoted 


200 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


love was worth more than the gold for which she had 
bartered her life’s happiness. 

“You married Richard Arlington, the New Y"ork mil- 
lionaire. Just Heaven ! You sold yourself to this man 
for his accursed gold. The fortune you now enjoy was 
bought by my disgrace.” 

“ What do you mean ?” cried Edith, catching hold of 
his arm and looking at him utterly bewildered. “ How 
could Richard Arlington’s fortune be obtained through 
your disgrace ?” she asked him. 

“ I witnessed his uncle’s will, and in that will your 
husband was only to receive twenty thousand dollars as 
a legacy. The entire estate was bequeathed to Captain 
Graham if alive, or his heirs. In order that your hus- 
band should possess his uncle’s millions it was neces- 
sary to get me out of the way, for I refused to accept 
the heavy bribe which they offered me. Finding that 
my honesty could not be tampered with, John Blake 
deliberately set a trap for me. He put a bond in my 
overcoat pocket, which I left hanging in his closet. He 
had me arrested, accused me of theft, and wove a com- 
plete chain of circumstantial evidence around me, by 
which I was sentenced to serve out a term of hard labor 
in Sing Sing. Think of what that year must have been to 
me. To mingle with the vilest of the vile, to know that 
my lovely sister’s heart was almost broken by disgrace, 
and my mother buried without an opportunity to even 
give me her dying blessing. The only gleam of sun- 
shine I had was my belief in your constancy, which, de- 
luded fool that I was, I clung to as a drowning man 
does to a straw.” 

'Fhe indignant man had spoken rapidly. He had 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


201 


poured out his heart’s bitterness scornfully, as he felt 
there was nothing human to be trusted. 

“Merciful Heavens ! My punishment is greater than 
I can bear,” cried the wretched woman, falling on her 
knees. “ Oh, forgive me ! forgive me I Think of what 
my life will be now I know the truth ! ” and she 
stretched out her hands imploringly to the man at 
whose feet she was kneeling. 

“ I trusted you as a man only trusts the woman whom 
he loves ; but in the hour of my unmerited disgrace you 
deserted me. You forgot your vows of love. I gave 
you your freedom wl)en I became a poor man, but I did 
not dream you would marry my enemy. Farewell, 
Edith ; I now devote my life to the service of my coun- 
try,” said the overwrought young man as he dashed out 
of the room, leaving the beautiful woman, who had been 
his promised wife, prostrate on the floor, weeping hot, 
passionate tears of unavailing remorse. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Margaret’s secret foe. 

In order that our readers may understand the under- 
current of our heroine’s life we must explain the events 
that transpired prior to Edward Osgood’s departure from 
Sing Sing. 

He received his sister’s letter announcing the death of 
their mother while he was a prisoner, and his heart was 
overwhelmed with anguish, for he felt she was alone in 
the world bearing the burden of his unmerited disgrace. 

The evening that Margaret received her brother’s reply 
to this letter she sat before the fire of the little sitting 
room of her apartments silently weeping. 

She opened the letter hastily when Ann gave it to her ; 
she felt soothed and comforted by his brotherly sym- 
pathy, but the tears still flowed down her pale cheeks as 
she thought of the retrospect of her life. This was 
her last week at home, for she was to give up even 
the humble roof which had sheltered her for the past 
two years and become an inmate of a cheap boarding 
house. 

She had made arrangements with a second-hand dealer 
to take all the furniture, excepting some pieces which she 
had given to her faithful servant. 

Margaret had paid the undertaker a portion of his bill, 
and had promised to give him the remainder when the 
furniture was sold. 


202 


Margaret’s secret foe. 203 

The girl felt utterly desolate. Her courage to fight 
the battle of life was fast waning. 

While she had had her invalid mother to toil for she 
was cheerful and full of energy, but the shock of Mrs. 
Osgood’s death had unnerved her daughter, and Mar- 
garet saw no silver lining to the cloud of darkness which 
enveloped her. 

Albert Williams had been very attentive to Margaret 
during this sad period, yet she did not for a moment 
dream that he was more than interested in her. 

She hardly heard the door bell ring, nor did she look 
up when Ann ushered the handsome nephew of David 
Jones into the room. 

“ How do you feel to-night, Miss Osgood ?” asked the 
young dry goods merchant kindly. 

I am well enough to thank you, but I still feel very 
lonely,” replied the beautiful girl as she gave her visitor 
her hand. 

The young man retained her soft, white, slender hand, 
and pressed it gently. 

“ Margaret,” said he, “ I cannot bear to see you suffer 
without telling you how deeply I sympathize with you in 
your grief. My dear girl, I hope you will not think I 
am intruding on your sorrow for your dear mother, but 
I feel that I must tell you what the sentiments of my 
heart are toward you, even if I offend by so doing. 
I cannot bear to think of you returning to the drudgery 
of the'store. I know that you have to hear the taunts 
of those unfeeling girls regarding your brother’s im- 
prisonment. You are not fit to cope with such people. 
I love you ! Can you return my affection ? Will you be 
my wife ? ” 


204 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUINIMER. 


“ O Albert ! ” cried Margaret as she realized how 
dear her employer’s nephew had become to her. “ I 
will, if you think I can make you happy.” 

Albert arose, bent over her chair, and, taking her 
sweet, girlish face, which was flushed by the joyous light 
of the love that warmed her heart, between his hands, 
he looked into her beautiful, truthful eyes. “You will 
make me the happiest of men, dearest. Life without 
your presence, Margaret, would be a dreary existence,” 
said Albert, kissing her fondly. 

The blushing girl was too confused by her lover’s 
sudden proposal to reply. 

“ We must be married at once, as you are now all alone 
' in the world and need a protector.” 

“ Let it be as you wish, Albert.” 

“ Our marriage will have to be a secret one, dear, on 
account of my uncle David’s strange whims.” 

“ I do not like secret marriages, and I would not 
consent to one now, but I know my brother’s un- 
merited disgrace has a great deal to do with your 
wishes.” 

“ It has,” replied the young man ; but he had another 
reason which he did not care to disclose to the confiding 
girl who had consented to become his wife. 

The following week Margaret was married at a strange 
minister’s house. Gerald Flavin and Lizzie North stood 
up with the young couple. 

Albert Williams had made a confidant of his uncle’s 
bookkeeper, in whom the merchant’s entire family con- 
fided. 

This young man was an educated Irishman, who came 


Margaret’s secret for. 205 

to the United States immediately after the failure of his 
father’s business. 

He was wonderfully gifted, and possessed any amount 
of business energy and tact. 

Gerald Flavin had entered his father’s counting house 
when he was a mere lad ; he had been drilled into sound 
business methods, and at twenty-two he possessed the 
experience and training of men many years older than 
himself. 

David Jones respected him for his talents and his 
sterling honesty. 

He confided all his business and family affairs to the 
bookkeeper, even his very escapades he would confess 
to the young man, though he knew he would receive a 
severe reprimand, for in private Gerald always gave his 
employer to understand that he felt himself to be his 
superior, though outwardly he treated Mr. Jones most 
respectfully. 

This young man wielded a strange influence over all 
the members of the merchant’s family. 

As Gerald Flavin was paying his addresses to Lizzie 
North, the only friend Margaret had, it was not so as- 
tonishing that Albert Williams asked them to witness 
his marriage with the beautiful figure of Jones Bros.’ 
cloak department. 

He requested the bookkeeper to keep the marriage 
secret, as he dreaded the anger of his uncle David. 

Gerald, knowing the peculiar disposition of the head 
of the firm, pledged himself to secrecy, and also exacted 
a promise from his friend Lizzie not to speak of it. 

Immediately after the ceremony Albert drove his 


2o6 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


bride to their new home in Brooklyn. The house was 
an old-fashioned two-story and basement brick dwelling 
on Willow Street. 

The bridegroom had furnished the house with exqui- 
site taste, and Margaret was delighted with the surround- 
ings of her new home. The only pang she suffered in 
breaking up her humble abode was taking leave of the 
faithful Ann. 

The young dry goods merchant had objected to Mar- 
garet’s engaging her former servant, as he felt the 
shrewd woman might make his bride* dissatisfied with 
the very quiet life which they would be obliged to lead 
in order not to let their marriage be known. 

Margaret was perfectly happy during the first two 
months of her married life. She knew no one in the 
“ City of Churches,” but she was always busy. 

She found time to read, and her piano was a source of 
real pleasure to her, as she was a fair musician, and she 
always had a new song or favorite melody ready for her 
husband’s evening’s entertainment. 

These two months of genuine happiness to the newly 
married pair was the calm before the storm in their 
wedded life. 

David Jones began to grow suspicious of his favorite 
nephew’s absence from his fireside after business hours ; 
and when he learned that Albert no longer boarded in 
East Fourteenth Street with a distant cousin of the 
family he became alarmed. 

He consulted his brother, who advised him to order 
Peter McCann to find out where Albert resided and 
where he spent his evenings. 

The following week the detective entered the mer» 


Margaret's Secret foe. 20^ 

chant’s private office, and taking a notebook from his 
pocket, he said ; 

“ Last night being a wet, disagreeable evening, I fol- 
lowed Mr. Williams.” 

“Well? well ?” exclaimed David Jones impatiently. 

“ He crossed the Fulton Ferry and walked up several 
blocks, turned, and finally came to a two-story house on 
Willow Street. He opened the door with a latchkey 
and entered. I crossed over to the opposite side of the 
street, where, sheltered by my umbrella, I watched the 
house. I saw your nephew come to the second- 
story window and pull down one of the shades. A 
quarter of an hour later 1 saw him seated at his dining- 
room table beside a beautiful woman. The blind was 
not pulled all the way down, so I crossed the street, 
went down to the basement, and stooped so that I could 
peep into the room. I had a good view of the couple 
as they sat at the table, 

“ Did you know the lady ? ” 

“ Yes ; she was one of your former employees — Miss 
Osgood. When the couple had dined they went up- 
stairs. I am sure that they were in the' parlor, for I 
heard the piano and their voices singing. I thought it 
might be safe to question the servant, so I rang the base- 
ment door bell. A neat-looking girl came to the door, 
and I asked her if Mr. Richardson lived there. She 
answered: ‘No, sir. Mr. Williams lives here.’ ‘And 
how long has he resided here ? ’ I asked. ‘ Oh, about 
two months. He is only just married.’ Thanking 
the girl, I left, as I did not wish your nephew to 
see me.” 

“ Well, well, McCann ! Keep this matter to yourself. 


2o8 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

for Albert may not be married, and I do not care for the 
report to get around the store.” 

“Very well, sir. I shall not speak of it.” 

“ When you go downstairs tell a cash boy to send 
Albert to me.” 

The detective bowed and left the office. 

Five minutes later the young dry goods merchant 
entered his uncle’s private office. The young man saw 
his relative was wrathful, and he wondered what was the 
cause of his anger. 

David Jones hated Margaret, for having dared to re- 
pulse him, and look with favor upon his handsome 
young nephew ; besides, he remembered the punishment 
which he had received from Captain Elliott the night 
the officer rescued the beautiful girl from his insulting 
embrace. 

The merchant wished his nephew to marry Miss Os- 
bourne, a wealthy heiress, on account of several private 
reasons of his own. 

“ Well, sir, your conduct is disgraceful,” cried David 
Jones, addressing his nephew as he looked at Albert 
with his countenance distorted with passion. 

“ In what respect, sir ? ” 

“The idea of your living in Brooklyn with one of our 
salesladies.” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir. There is nothing in my con- 
duct that is disgraceful. I fell in love with a beautiful 
girl and I married her.” 

“ Married ! ” 

“ Yes, sir. You can ask Gerald Flavin ; he was a wit- 
ness to our marriage. I am old enough to choose a 
wife, and I have married a lady of whom I am proud.” 


Margaret’s secreI* fo£. 


^60 

“1 expected you would marry Miss Osbourne ” 

“ I am sorry that I could n<?t comply with your wishes, 
but Miss Osbourne, even with her millions, could not 
render me happy.” 

“You have disgraced your family, sir. I have tried 
to make the name of Jones respected. I was a bare- 
footed boy when I landed in New York, but to-day I am 
a merchant prince,” said David Jones proudly. 

“ You seem to forget that my wife’s father was a New 
York banker.” 

“ He was a scoundrel, sir, who stole other people’s 
money. His son takes affer him — he is a nice brother- 
in-law, a convict in Sing Sing. How dare you marry 
one of my shop girls ? ” 

“ You forget Margaret was a society belle before she 
ever was a saleswoman.” 

“ Pooh ! It is not what people were, sir, but what 
they are ! ” cried the merchant impatiently. 

“ Margaret is an honest, beautiful lady, fit to grace 
any station in life,” answered Albert indignantly. 

“ You are an idiot to think that any woman who has a 
brother in prison and had a father who commited suicide 
to avoid his creditors can enter any family without dis- 
gracing its members. Why, sir, we will be a regular 
target for the malicious tongues of the scandalmongers. 
You cannot remain any longer in my employ. You are 
discharged. The nominal percentage which I allowed you 
to draw was a private arrangement between us. Your 
name does not appear on the books of the firm, for I did 
not wish Mrs. Jardine to know all my private affairs.” 

“ Very well, sir. I shall find employment somewhere 
else.” 


210 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ You will seek it in some other place, then, for I tell 
you now I will do my best«to prevent you from getting 
a situation in this city.” 

“ I will trouble you to give me a cheek for five hun- 
dred dollars, which you owe me,” said the young man. 
He felt too indignant to trust himself to give utterance 
to his thoughts. 

David Jones made out the check, and tossed it toward 
Albert. 

The young man took it, put it in his pocket, and with- 
out^another a^word walked out of the office. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Margaret’s UNHAPPY b'ate. 

Albert Williams was a mere child when his widowed 
mother received a letter from her brother, David Jones, 
asking her to send her elder boy to New York to be 
educated and placed in the world. 

The poor woman had five others to provide for, and 
as her brothers in America sent her a check twice a 
year to maintain her fatherless children, she felt she 
dare not refuse this offer. 

She parted with her boy reluctantly, but she thought 
it was for his ultimate benefit. 

Albert hardly remembered the little village in Wales 
where he was born, as he was only seven years old when 
he left home. 

His uncles sent him to school, for they, in common 
with the generality of self-made men, knew that knowl- 
edge should be acquired early in life. 

David Jones became very much attached to his hand- 
some, intelligent young kinsman, and when Albert 
graduated from Columbia College with honor he justly 
felt proud of him, and he hoped that the youth would 
in time marry the daughter of some New York million- 
aire. 

The proud, ambitious man was shocked and disap- 
pointed when he discovered that his nephew had mar- 
ried Margaret Osgood. 


21 ^ 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


It was in vain that his brother James and Gerald 
Flavin endeavored to make him listen to reason on the 
afternoon Albert left his employ. 

“ The ungrateful boy,” he exclaimed, “ has disgraced 
us all by marrying one of our shop girls.” 

‘‘ But she is a perfect lady, sir,” the bookkeeper ven- 
tured to remark. 

“ What has that to do with it ? Her brother is in Sing 
Sing, and her father’s career was not one to boast of. 
P.shaw ! He could have married a daughter of a mil- 
lionaire,” growled the merchant. 

“ Yes, but he is in love with Miss Osgood,” said his 
brother. 

“ Pooh ! He ought to have had better sense. There ! 
I will not hear another word on the subject. He has 
disgraced us all, 1 tell you, and I do not wish to hear 
his name mentioned.” 

It was four o’clock when Albert Williams reached his 
home. 

He felt justly incensed at the treatment he had re- 
ceived from his uncle David. 

Margaret was surprised to see her husband so early, 
and she anxiously inquired if he was ill. 

“ No, dear. But I have been discharged by my 
uncle.” 

“ Discharged ! ” 

“Yes, Margaret. We had some words, and I have 
left the firm. I am sincerely sorry on your account, 
my dear girl, because I had hoped to make your life 
happy.” 

“ Albert, I hope our marriage has not caused you to 
quarrel with your uncle.” 


MARGARETS UNHAPPY FATE. 213 

“ Margaret, if you love me do not ask what has oc- 
casioned our quarrel. I have left Jones Bros., and must 
find another position.” 

The following week Albert received an offer from a 
firm in Chicago, which he at once accepted, as he 
thought it best to leave New York, and seek his fortune 
away from his former associations. 

Margaret did not question her husband about the 
quarrel between himself and his uncle, but she surmised 
with a woman’s quick intuition that she was the cause 
of it, and in the secrecy of her chamber she wept bitter 
tears of unvailing sorrow because she had married 
the nephew of David Jones. She endeavored, by her 
wifely devotion, to make her husband happy and com- 
fortable. Her own misfortunes made her think of 
her brother, to whom she had written before she left 
Brooklyn. 

She informed him that she was married, and about to 
go West ; also, on account of her husband’s family, that 
their marriage was a secret ; she hoped when she was 
settled in her new home to obtain her husband’s per- 
mission to disclose his name. Edward’s sensitve feel- 
ings were wounded, for he realized that his disgrace had 
caused Margaret’s secret marriage, and that her life was 
shadowed by being a convict’s sister. 

By a strange combination of circumstances Edward 
did not meet his sister or hear from her for almost 
two yeai^. 

Margaret wrote to him just before her baby was born ; 
but he never received her letter, for she had forgotten 
that prisoners have two months deducted from their 
sentence for good conduct ; therefore her brother was 


2 14 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

liberated before her letter was written, and he, not hear- 
ing from her, believed that his sister did not wish to 
be burdened by his disgrace, and she had let him drift 
entirely out of her life. 

The first month after Albert and Margaret removed to 
Chicago was a busy one, as they had to find a residence 
suitable for their limited means. 

They finally hired a small house, which was furnished 
partially by what they had brought with them from New 
York, together with some indispensable household arti- 
cles bought in Chicago. 

Margaret put her new home in perfect order. Her 
taste and skill made the little house wear an air of re- 
finement, often found lacking in more pretentious dwell- 
ings. 

Albert Williams found his business relations with his 
new employer rather irksome. 

While he was a member of his uncles’ firm the em- 
ployees of the house looked up to him and treated him 
with marked deference. 

But in his present situation he was obliged to work 
early and late for a small salary. 

He made a few acquaintances among the different, 
salesmen, and frequently lingered on his way home at a 
wineroom where his new companions loitered. 

The gossip of these men amused Albert, and he drank 
more wine than was good for him, besides spending 
money which he could ill afford. 

When his beautiful wife met him on the threshold of 
the door with her welcoming kiss she shuddered : un- 
happily for her peace of mind she had discovered his 
weakness. 


Margaret’s unhappy fate. 215 

Margaret endeavored to wean her husband from his 
evil associates, but she was powerless. 

She prepared with her own hands dainty suppers to 
tempt his appetite — in vain ; night after night Albert 
came home in a state of intoxication. 

They had only been in Chicago seven months when 
Margaret became a mother. 

She was, inoeed, to be pitied, for her husband’s love 
ought to have sustained her in her hour of anguish ; but 
he did not care for children, and the birth of his son af- 
forded him no satisfaction. 

He was glad that Margaret’s life was spared, but con- 
sidered the child to be a sort of nuisance. 

Margaret, like all young mothers, was enraptured with 
the priceless treasure sent to her from Heaven to console 
and comfort her, and did not perceive her husband’s 
neglect. 

Albert seldom came home to supper during his 
wife’s illness ; therefore, when she was able to attend 
to the management of her household, she was sur- 
prised and pained to find her husband keeping such late 
hours. 

He had only been in Chicago nine months when he 
suddenly threw up his position, and hastily bidding his 
wife good-by, took the train to New York. 

On his arrival in the great metropolis he wrote a hasty 
note to Margaret. 

Then she did not hear from him for several weeks, 
and of course became greatly alarmed. 

She had no address ; in fact, she was afraid to write 
Jones Bros, for information concerning her husband, 
and was not certain whether he had gone to his uncles’ 


2i6 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


Store or not ; and she was too proud to let even her 
friend Lizzie know her trials. 

If Margaret had known the truth she would have 
felt even more anxious than she was regarding the 
future. 

David Jones had missed his hanbsome, genial nephew 
far more than he expected, and he had written to Albert 
to return to New York and resume his old position, but 
upon no account to bring his wife with him. 

The young man had returned to New York, intending 
to plead with his uncle for his beautiful wife. He felt 
that he could not have his home apart from her. 

Madame Effray and all the old employees were 
delighted to see him. 

David Jones made him take up his abode in the new 
brown-stone dwelling which h*e had purchased on Fifth 
Avenue. 

The merchant and his brother had hired a house- 
keeper, and they had sent for one of Albert’s younger 
sisters. 

This young girl was only fourteen, and was a very 
handsome and amiable girl. She had received some 
education, and she quickly assumed her proper sphere 
in her uncle’s household. 

David Jones sent Madge to a fashionable day school, 
and kept a strict eye upon her, as he was determined 
that she at least should marry to please him. Albert 
was delighted to meet his sister, and he enjoyed his lux- 
urious new home. 

He tried to talk to his uncle about his wife, but David 
Jones would not hear her name mentioned. 

'rhis man, though he had done many things a real gen- 


Margaret’s unhappy fate. 217 

tleman would scorn, had never been a genuine, deliber- 
ate scoundrel until now. 

Mrs. Jardine, who was his silent partner, had insisted 
upon having thirty thousand dollars put aside as a re- 
serve fund. 

This eccentric lady did not wish her name to appear 
as one of the firm. 

She had a very fair conception of the enormous profits 
made in the dry goods business through her brother; 
therefore when his firm retired from business she was 
pleased to advance their former cashier fifty thousand 
dollars with which to go into business. 

David Jones had been contented with his prosperous 
trade until lately he had become seized with a specula- 
tive fever, and was very anxious to make money outside 
of his legitimate transactions. He speculated and lost 
heavily.^ 

He had drawn nearly all the reserve fund, and was 
afraid that Mrs. Jardine would discover the money had 
been squandered, and it was necessary that he should 
borrow at least thirty to forty thousand dollars. He 
knew if he could once more get his nephew under his 
influence he could persuade Albert to discard his wife 
and marry the wealthy Miss Osbourne. 

David Jones hated Margaret more than ever, and he 
determined, if possible, to forward his own interests 
and take his revenge at the same time. 

Albert had been in New York five weeks, and he was 
getting very anxious about his wife’s future ; therefore 
he asked his uncle David : 

“ When shall I have your consent to send for my 
wife ? ” 


2i8 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

“ I wish you would not bother me about her. Take 
my advice and get a divorce and marry a rich woman. 
Don’t waste your youth working for a poor one.” 

“ What do you mean, sir ? ” 

“ Exactly what I said. You were a fool to marry that 
girl. Harry Lacy was an old lover of hers.” 

“ It is false ! ” cried Albert. 

“ Will you get a divorce if I can prove that your wife 
can be induced to be untrue to you ?” 

“Most assuredly. I would not live an hour with any 
woman who would be unfaithful to her marriage vows. 
But you are mistaken, sir, regarding my wife.” 

“All right, my boy. If I find your wife stands the 
test I shall forgive you both, and I will accept her as a 
member of the family.” 

“ If you discover Margaret is false I shall divorce 
her,” said Albert, feeling fully convinced that his wife 
could stand any test to which she might be subjected, 
and he thought it best to humor his uncle’s whim in 
order that Margaret should be reconciled with David 
Jones and publicly acknowledged as his wife. 

Albert was anxious his wife should return to New 
York, but he would never haye listened to his uncle’s 
proposition if he had thought Margaret was to be en- 
trapped and made the victim of a base plot. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


'a stormy interview. 

The next day Miss Osbourne’s carriage stopped before 
Jones Bros., and the heiress alighted and entered the 
store, receiving a warm welcome from David Jones, who 
happened to be standing near the center door. 

She was a tall, thin woman with a fine figure, which 
was artistically padded by her skillful dressmaker. She 
had black eyes and coarse curly black hair ; her nose 
and mouth were large, but her teeth were white, and her 
complexion was very fair for a brunette. 

In her ears were diamonds of the first water ; in fact, 
they were so large and brilliant that it was impossible 
not to notice them. 

A large horseshoe pin of the flashing gems fastened 
her cloak at the throat, and her fingers were covered 
with rings of all designs. Ada Bennet had nicknamed 
her the “ diamond lady.” 

Miss Osbourne had not been in the store for several 
months. 

She seldom came there unless as an excuse to see 
Albert Williams, to whom she was very partial. 

When the diamond lady entered the cloak depart- 
ment Ada Bennet gave Maud Harris a slight pinch. 
Madame Effray waited on the heiress herself and sold 
her a traveling wrap. 


219 


220 


ROMANCE OF A DRY OOOBS DRUMMER. 


“Where is the handsome saleslady you had here about 
a year ago ? ” asked Miss Osbourne. 

“Oh, she’s married and has gone out West.” 

“ Whom did she marry ? ” 

“ I do not know the gentleman’s name. I never heard 
it. Mr. Jones told me she was married and had gone to 
the far West to reside,” replied Madame Effray. 

Albert Williams came into the department to speak 
to the forelady about some new figures which his uncle 
thought of ordering, when he met Miss Osbourne and 
greeted her cordially. 

They walked around the store together, indulging 
in the usual gossip that people find to say to each 
other. 

Miss Osbourne invited Albert to dinner the following 
Tuesday. He accepted the invitation -and saw her to 
her carriage. 

Gerald Flavin, who was returning from his lunch, saw 
the heiress bow and wave her hand to Albert as the car- 
riage drove away. 

“ Ah ! you’re flirting with the diamond lady. Be 
careful, my boy; don’t lose your head. Your lovely 
wife is worth a dozen such women.” 

“ Pshaw ! Miss Osbourne is an old friend. Flavin,” 
replied Albert carelessly as they entered the store 
together. 

Perhaps the conscience of Margaret’s husband troubled 
him during the first month of his return to his former 
business position. 

He had sent his wife fifty dollars and a few brief lines, 
telling her that he was trying to get his uncle’s consent 
to bring her and their son to New York. 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


221 


The letter was friendly, but cold, considering it was 
written by a husband to his wife. 

Margaret read her husband’s letter — the second she 
had received from him during his absence — and felt a 
strange chill creep over her. 

“ Oh, what have I done to make my husband feel 
ashamed of me?” cried the unhappy woman aloud as 
she clasped her infant to her throbbing heart and wept. 

That evening as Margaret sat alone, for her servant 
had gone out to visit a sister who was ill, she heard the 
door bell ring. 

Her baby had fallen asleep, and she put him in his 
cradle, covered him, and lowering the gas, went down- 
stairs. 

The light was burning dimly in the hall, and when 
Margaret opened the door she did not recognize her vis- 
itor. At first she thought it was her husband, but the 
man’s figure was dilferent from that of Albert. 

The gentleman said : 

“ I wish to see Mrs. Williams on important business.” 

“ I am she,” answered Margaret calmly. “ Please 
walk into the parlor, sir.” 

She lit the gas, and turning around, recognized the 
stranger. 

“ Mr. Lacy ! ” she exclaimed in surprise. 

“ Yes, Mrs. Williamb. Your despised suitor has dared 
to call on you to inform you that your husband has de- 
serted you.” 

“ If he has, I prefer to hear it from a more reliable 
person than I believe you to be, sir.” 

“ You may doubt my assertion, madam, but you will 
find I have told you the truth.” 


222 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ It is a Strange errand you have come on, sir. My 
husband may have his faults, as we all have ; but it is 
not my duty to listen to anyone traducing him.” 

Albert Williams’ unhappy wife drew herself up 
proudly as she looked into the face of the man who 
dared to come with such a tale to her. 

“ Your hu.sband has sent me to ask you to consent to 
a divorce, madam.” 

Margaret staggered, for she was still weak after her 
severe illness, and she would have fallen had not Lacy 
put out his arm to save her. She shook him off, and 
sank into a chair. She breathed hard, and put her hand 
to her heart, as if she could stop its throbbings. For a 
few moments silence reigned, and Harry Lacy’s un- 
feeling heart smote him for the vile part he was 
playing. 

“ Yes, madam,” he went on, “ your husband is tired of 
his bonds. He wishes to be released, as he desires to 
marry Miss Osbourne, the wealthy New York heiress.” 

It suddenly occurred to Margaret that she had seen 
Miss Osbourne in the store. She remembered her by 
her costly and brilliant diamonds, which the lady, Mar- 
garet thought, wore to attract attention. 

“ Mr. David Jones is prepared to give you a yearly al- 
lowance to live on if you will permit Albert to obtain 
a divorce by making no defense. You know in this 
State divorces are granted for various causes — incom- 
patibility of temper, abandonment, etc. The law in 
Illinois is very lenient to those who wish to have their 
marriages annulled. Your husband was very much in 
love with you, and may be still ; but he cannot stand 
poverty. He was brought up rather luxuriously, and he 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


223 


did not enjoy working in a dry goods store in Chicago 
for the paltry sum of thirty dollars a week, even if his 
toil was sweetened by your society ; and besides, his 
uncle will not allow him to acknowledge his marriage 
with you, which he considers a disgrace.” 

Margaret could not speak, but she raised her hand to 
enforce silence. 

She was enduring a silent martyrdom, for she now 
fully understood why Albert had been discharged after 
their marriage. 

Her suspicions were confirmed, and she was powerless 
to utter a word. 

Lacy paused, but perceiving that Margaret did not 
speak, he resumed his brutal statements. 

“ Miss Osbourne, as you are aware, is one of the 
richest heiresses in New York. She has been in love 
with your husband for years, and Albert has shown her 
considerable attention since his return to New York. 
Many people believe they are engaged, for no one except 
a very few intimate friends knows that Albert is married 
to you. If you will permit me to advise you, my dear 
madam, I should say, give your husband his freedom. 
Make David Jones settle a handsome allowance on you 
before you make the agreement, and then get married 
yourself to a man who will appreciate your beauty and 
talents. 

“ Margaret,” he continued, rising and taking one of 
her cold hands which lay on her lap, “ I love you — let 
bygones be bygones between us. I have acted like a 
brute to you, but you drove me distracted with your 
scorn.” 

Margaret fluRg his hands off ; his touch had restored 


224 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


her presence of mind, and she arose and confronted 
him. 

“ Why did you desert me, Mr. Lacy, when my father 
failed, when my brother was arrested, and when my 
mother died ? I was thrown on the world a helpless girl. 
You only cared for me when my father was a million- 
aire — it was the banker’s millions, not his daughter, that 
you courted in the days of my prosperity. I under- 
stand what love like yours is worth, sir. If Albert has 
forgotten his marital vows I have not. Go, sir — go ! ” 
cried the excited woman, pointing to the door. 

“ Margaret, you are rash. You have misunderstood 
me. My intentions are strictly honorable. Let me be 
your friend. You need one surely.” 

“ Not such a one as you, Mr. Lacy.” 

‘‘ Upon my honor, you wrong me. I will be your very 
slave if you will only learn to look upon me kindly. 
Margaret, you once valued and respected me.” 

“ I did when I was an inexperienced girl. I believed 
you to be a noble, disinterested man, but in the hour of 
my bitterest trials you deserted me, and I learned to 
know you, sir. I saw that I had been but a foolish girl, 
flattered by a man of the world, and then, Mr. Lacy, I 
began to despise you.” 

“ But, Margaret, you shall not continue to do so with- 
out cause. You shall learn to reciprocate my love,” 
and the coward as he spoke attempted to take the defense- 
less woman in his arms, but Margaret was too quick for 
him. She ran to the front door and flung it wide open. 

“If you do not leave this house at once I shall sum- 
mon someone to my assistance and you shall be com- 
pelled to go forcibly.” 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 225 

Harry Lacy shrugged his shoulders. He took up his 
hat and hissed into Margaret’s ear as he passed her ; 

“ You shall remember this night to your dying day.” 

Margaret slammed and locked the door. Then she 
rushed upstairs and flung herself on her knees beside 
her sleeping infant. She clasped her hands in agony 
as the tears rained down her cheeks. 

Another feeling, more powerful than maternal love, 
was struggling in her heart — it was the passion of her 
life, the love of a warm, impulsive heart. She was 
wrestling with it, trying to stifle it, but such love, no 
matter how it is scorned, burns so long as there is a 
Spark left to feed its vitality, burns forever, a blessing or 
a curse. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


UNRAVELING A MYSTERV. 

Margaret was a loving wife, and her husband’s 
base desertion nearly cost her her life. 

She became so alarmingly ill her physician was afraid 
she was going to have an acute attack of brain fever, 
but Providence interposed and the young mother’s rea- 
son was spared. 

Margaret realized that her life was necessary to her 
worse than fatherless boy, .and that it was her duty to 
try to bear the burdens of her life for his sake. 

She naturally thought of her brother in the hour of 
her bitter anguish and wrote to him several times, but 
received no reply. 

Finally, becoming alarmed, she wrote to the warden 
of the jail, and was informed by him that her brother 
had been set at liberty. He had served out his term and 
received the usual two months for good conduct. 

When this news reached her Margaret knew it was a 
hopeless task to look for Edward. 

She devoted herself to the care of her sick infant, hop- 
ing against hope that her husband would return to the 
home he had left. 

Edward, at this time, endeavored to find his sister’s 
friend Lizzie North, thinking perhaps she might know 
Margaret’s address. 


226 


UNRAVELING A MYSTERY. 


227 


He called at the residence of Mrs. North in Yorkville, 
but was told by the present occupant that the family 
had removed to Jersey City; also it was believed that 
Miss North was married and her new address was for- 
gotten. 

Edward thought there would be no use inquiring at 
Jones Bros.’ for his sister, as she had written him 
that her marriage was private ; therefore he gave up for 
the time searching for Margaret, and determined to 
seek Richard Arlington, and discover what had become 
of Mrs. Graham. 

We already know the result of his interview with 
that polished scoundrel, a»d also the meeting of Ed- 
ward with the woman who had once been his promised 
wife. 

When Edward dashed out of the hotel parlor, leaving 
Mrs. Arlington weeping the bitterest tears she ever 
shed, the first person he met was Johnny Ryan. 

Come, we have not a moment to lose,” said the 
young reporter, “ if we want to catch the boat.” 

Edward followed his friend silently. Elis emotions 
nearly stifled him, because he had clung to the delusive 
hope of Edith’s love and loyalty ; even though he had 
released her from her pledged troth he believed she 
ought to have held their love sacred. 

He could not understand that a girl of Edith’s train- 
ing was a slave to the prejudices of society. In the 
hour the banker's son lost his wealth he also forfeited 
all the claims he had on her affections. Edith la Tour’s 
marriage to Richard Arlington was a cruel blow to him. 
To know of the woman whom he had loved so devotedly 
becoming the wife of the man who, in conjunction with 


228 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


John Blake, had blasted his reputation, drove Edward 
almost distracted. 

Johnny Ryan saw that his friend appeared dazed, and 
so imagined that Edward was offended with him for 
having been detained so long. 

“ I am sorry, Osgood, that I kept you waiting, but I 
found a clew which I followed up. Come, let us get a 
seat on the upper deck, and I will unravel a mystery 
which will astonish you.” 

The boat had left her pier, and the two friends sat 
opposite each other ; for a few moments neither of them 
spoke. 

The reporter had his notebook in his hand, and he 
was carefully reading over the report therein to himself. 
At last he looked up at Osgood, who .sat chewing the cud 
of his bitter reflections. 

“ You called on Richard Arlington this morning to 
demand justice for his cousin’s widow and son.” 

“ How do you know I did ? ” asked Edward in 
surprise. 

“ Because I had made a prior call on the little girl who 
opened the gate for you. She is an old friend of mine. 
I overheard your conversation and noted it down.” 

“ Where were you ? ” 

“ Behind one of the large oak trees near where you 
stood. Mr. Arlington had another visitor before you 
appeared — a lady. She was a relative, for he addressed 
her as ‘ Cousin Laura ’ — Mrs. Graham had a very strange 
interview with him. I have also a report of this conver- 
sation.” 

“ Are you mad ? Mrs. Graham is dead and buried, X 
saw her grave this morning.” 


UNRAVELING A MYSTERY. 229 

“And I saw her tombstone, but not her grave. She is 
alive, or, at least, was two hours ago.” 

Edward gazed at the reporter ; he was too astonished 
to utter a word. 

Johnny laughed. 

“1 am perfectly sober and sane, my dear boy. 
Mrs. Graham is alive. I interviewed the sexton of 
the old Dutch chapel ; he says she and her son died 
in Washington, and that Arlington erected that tomb- 
stone to their memory. I see Messrs. Blake and Ar- 
lington have carried out a vile conspiracy. You were 
their first victim ; Madame Roland and Mrs. Graham 
have also been sacrificed to the cupidity of these 
men.” 

“ Poor Madame Roland ! It’s a pity she is dead,” said 
Edward mechanically. 

“ Oh, no. She is not an inhabitant of the other world 
yet, but she is confined in a madhouse.” 

“ Great Heavens ! ” cried Edward, starting to his feet 
and looking at his friend as if he could hardly compre- 
hend his meaning. 

“ Yes, my friend. I repeat, Madame Roland is confined 
in a madhouse called Woodbine Asylum. Where that 
private boarding house for lunatics is located I do not 
know, and I suppose I shall have a very queer time in 
finding said establishment ; though it appears to me I 
have heard the name before.” 

“ So you have — Woodbine Asylum is kept by Dr. 
Hamilton, one of Mr. Blake’s clients.” 

“ By Jove ! You’re right ; and I know exactly where 
the place is, as I was once sent there by Blake when I 
was his office boy. I will go there again on my own ac- 


230 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


count, for Madame Roland must be rescued from the 
clutches of these men.” 

“ AVe are not Vanderbilts, Johnny, and I am afraid we 
could not bribe the doctor to release her. This man 
has his price, my boy,” said Edward. 

“ Pooh ! I shall not tempt him with dollars.” 

“ How are you going to manage to obtain Madame 
Roland’s release, I would like to know ? ” 

“ My dear Osgood, I will admit that we are not bank 
presidents ; but we have brains, and you know some- 
times strategy can accomplish wonders.” 

The two friends talked over their plans until the boat 
reached New York. 

“ Come with me up to the office. I will have to tell 
our editor that my grandmother is dead, and I must go 
out of town to the funeral, for it is almost impossible to 
get a week off, unless you take one on the Potomac, 
these times.” 

Osgood did not care to go to the office with Johnny, 
but promised to wait for him on the corner of Ann and 
Nassau Streets, while the reporter ran up to the editorial 
rooms of the Herald, which was at that time located at 
that corner. 

Johnny was absent about twenty minutes, when he 
rejoined his friend. 

“Old Murphy growled— he actually did not believe I 
had a grandmother, or that she had expired suddenly.” 

Osgood laughed outright at the whimsical expression 
on his friend’s countenance. 

“ Johnny, you will be a great novelist some day. 
Your inventive faculties are excellent.” 

“ But my appetite is better just now. Come, we will 


UNRAVELING A MYSTERY. 231 

walk up to the Bowery and have some dinner, for I am 
almost starved.” 

After walking a few blocks they reached a restaurant, 
and the two young men entered and ordered a substan- 
tial repast. 

After dinner Johnny turned to his friend and 
said ; 

“ I am now going to visit a theatrical costumer — Mon- 
sieur Lafont, a clever Frenchman ; he changes men from 
young to old and vice versa for the magnificent sum of 
five dollars.” 

Monsieur Lafont’s place of business was but two 
blocks distant. He had his rooms over a small dry 
goods store. 

When the young men reached the costumer’s they 
found the little old Frenchman busily engaged fitting 
the leading man of the Bowery Theater in a crimson 
velvet coat, trimmed with gold lace. 

The room presented a strange appearance. There 
were masks of every description hanging on the walls. 
On the counter were two glass cases — one contained all 
sorts of wigs, beards, and mustaches ; the other had a 
large assortment of stage jewels. 

Between the windows were hung swords and rifles ; 
and over the casements, arranged in groups, were pistols 
of different sizes. 

There were a number of small shelves on one side of 
the room, and on these the various costumes were stored, 
with name and number printed on each shelf. 

Monsieur Lafont, having satisfied the actor that his 
coat fitted him to perfection, went forward to wait on 
the two young men. 


S32 ROxMANCE of a dry goods drummer. 

“ Monsieur,” said Johnny, shaking hands with the 
costumer, “ allow me to introduce you to my friend Mr. 
Osgood.” 

The old Frenchman bowed politely as he asked : 

“ In what way can I serve you, gentlemen ? ” 

“ We want our appearance changed, so that parties 
who formerly knew us will be totally unable ro recognize 
us.” 

“Ah, I see! You newspaper men sometimes play 
detective.” 

“ Exactly, monsieur. We wish to shadow a case. I 
have discovered one of the greatest conspiracies of the 
age. A report has already been made of it, but I must 
verify all my facts ; so we have come to you to be 
changed. My friend must look older than he is, while 
I — well, make me up as ugly as possible.” 

“Yes, yes — 1 understand. Come into my den.” 

And the old man led them to the upper end of the 
back room, which had been partitioned off like a large 
closet and was lit by gas. 

He commenced his work on Edward Osgood’s hair, 
which he colored in such a manner as to appear iron- 
gray. 

He also altered the eyebrows and mustache, and then 
made Edward put on a pair of light blue spectacles. 

He next turned his attention to Johnny, and turned 
his hair a bright red, and colored the eyebrows. 

“ Now, gentlemen, go and look at yourselves.” 

“Well,” said Johnny as he looked in the mirror, 
“you’ve surely made me ugly enough. Why, Osgood, 
your own sister would not recognize you, and I am sure 
Dr. Hamilton will never know you.” 


UNRAVELING A MYSTERY. 


233 


“ That is the best I can do if you want your disguise 
to last for several weeks ; if it were only for a few days 
I could do better. I can give you both a pair of false 
whiskers, but I do not advise it, as they are inconvenient 
besides being inartistic.” 

“We will do, monsieur,” said Johnny, handing the 
costumer a ten-dollar bill. 

“ If you succeed in finding out your conspiracy case, 
and you are passing here, drop in and let me know if 
my alterations lasted as long as you wished. I guaran- 
tee you to wear well as you are for three weeks.” 

“ All right, monsieur ; our work will have to be accom- 
plished in a week. Good-by ! ” 

The costumer gravely bowed to his two customers as 
they left his rooms. 

“ Well, what is our next move?” asked Osgood. 

“ We will sleep in my rooms, as my landlady is used to 
my having myself made up, therefore she will not be 
surprised' at my appearance. We will have an early 
breakfast and take the first train we can get for Tarry- 
town, en route to Woodbine Asylum,” said the reporter 
as they walked up the Bowery to Bond Street, where he 
lodged. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE NEW PATIENT. 

Woodbine Asydum was a private madhouse, where 
Dr. Hamilton received patients at different rates, ac- 
cording to the circumstances of the persons who em- 
ployed him. 

His policy was not to illtreat his patients, but to keep 
them alive at the smallest possible cost. 

He was not personally cruel^ but allowed the nurses 
he employed to do pretty much as they liked, while he 
lived his own life and enjoyed himself after his own 
manner in New York. 

• Madame Roland, when she recovered from the effects 
of the opiate administered to her by Dr. Enrich, was 
surprised on looking about her to perceive that she was 
in a strange apartment. 

She rubbed her eyes, as she imagined she was not yet 
awake ; but the sun was shining, and she could distin- 
guish the various pieces of furniture in the room, and 
very odd they appeared to her. 

Surely she must be the victim of some queer delusion, 
for this comfortless apartment was entirely different from 
the luxurious chamber which she had occupied in the 
Arlington villa. 

Madame Roland, although an aged women, jumped 
out of her bed and ran to one of the windows, which she 
saw was secured on the outside with heavy iron bars, 


234 


THE NEW PATIENT. 


235 


She peeped through her prison window, and saw the 
high brick walls which surrounded the madhouse ; she 
then went swiftly to the door, which she found was 
locked on the outside. 

“ Merciful Heavens ! ” cried she. Where am I ? ” 

She could not comprehend where she was or how she 
had come there. 

The old lady became intensely excited, for she saw 
that she was not entirely undressed. 

Her shoes were off, but she had on her stockings ; her 
dress had been removed, and a dark woolen dressing 
gown put on her. 

Madame Roland, although she trembled violently, 
looked around the room and found her dress and shoes. 

Making a hasty toilet, she examined her strange room. 

She saw a bell, which she rang impatiently, but it was 
nearly half an hour before anyone answered her sum- 
mons. 

At length she heard the key turn in the lock, and she 
sprung to her feet as Ann Grey, the head nurse of the 
asylum, entered the room. 

“ What do you mean by ringing that bell as if the 
house was on fire just as the people sat down to their 
breakfast ? ” 

“ I wish to inquire,” said Madame Roland, looking 
into the woman’s forbidding countenance, “ where I am 
and how I came here ? ” 

“ Pooh ! You need not have brought me upstairs to 
answer such a foolish question. You are in Dr. Hamil- 
ton’s private lunatic asylum.” 

“ Who has dared to commit such an outrage ? Call 
the doctor. I wish to see him,” said the old lady as her 


236 ROMANCE OF A DRY CxOODS DRUMMER. 

cheeks flushed hotly and she trembled with suppressed 
excitement. 

“I can’t, ma’am,” replied Ann. “The doctor took 
the six o’clock train for New York.” 

“ When do you expect him to return ?” 

“ Not for a week or ten days.” 

“ Do you mean to say that I have been brought here 
as one of the doctor’s patients ? ” 

“ Certainly, or you would not be here,” replied Ann, 
with a coarse laugh. 

Madame Roland saw it was useless to argue with the 
attendant, and the old lady’s feelings had been wrought 
up to such an extent that it was by a great effort that 
she calmed herself sufficiently to address the nurse again 
in a quiet tone : 

• “ Please bring me pen, ink, and paper.” 

“ You are in a madhouse, not a hotel. We never mail 
the letters which our patients write. Behave yourself 
and you will be treated right ; but if you give us any 
trouble we will teach you a lesson you won’t forget.” 

“ But I am not insane ! ” cried Madame Roland. 

“ That is what all our patients say,” replied the nurse. 

“ Who has dared to bring me here ? ” 

“ You were brought here last night by Dr. Hamilton. 
We thought you were drunk at first, but when 1 un- 
dressed you I saw you had been drugged. The doctor 
told me to take good care of you, as you were sent here 
by a New York millionaire, who wished you to have the 
best of care.” 

Madame Roland staggered, and she would have, fallen 
had Ann not caught her in her arms. 

“ I am lost !” exclaimed the unhappy woman. “ Rich- 


THE NEW patient. 


237 


ard Arlington has placed me here in order that he may 
inherit his uncle's fortune.” 

The nurse’s cpld heart for a moment felt a throb of 
pity for the poor old lady's anguish. 

“ Merciful Heavens ! ” cried the old lady, clasping her 
hands wildly together. “ Am I to be condemned to a 
living death ? It would be kinder to kill me than to de- 
prive me of my liberty.” 

“ You must not talk like that, ma’am. You are to 
have the best of everything, so you might be worse off. 
I’ll see that your meals are well cooked and served. You 
shall have all the latest novels or any religious book you 
want, and you will soon get used to your new life,” said 
the nurse. 

“Never. Good Heaven ! how could the child that I 
raised repay all my devotion with such base ingratitude ? 
I took the man who sent me here from his dying mother’s 
arms.” 

“ He is a bad lot, ma’am, but do not fret about him. 
I’ll go and get you a nice breakfast, and then you’ll feel 
better,” said Ann as she hastily left the room and bolted 
the door after her. 

Madame Roland wept the bitterest tears of her life 
over Richard Arlington’s base and criminal ingratitude, 
and she mourned for Laura Graham, whom she believed 
to be dead. 

The unfortunate old lady grieved so intensely that the 
week after she was admitted into Woodbine Asylum she 
was attacked with brain fever, and she became so 
delirious that they confined her in one of the padded 
rooms. 

The owner of the establishment received a hint from 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

Mr. Blake that if Madame Roland died he would receive 
ten thousand dollars for her funeral expenses. 

The doctor did not object to ten thousand dollars, but 
he did object to commit murder, for this man always 
endeavored to have the law on his side. 

When Madame Roland regained her reason, by Dr. 
Hamilton’s orders she was still confined in the padded 
room, and treated inhumanly — in fact, her life was one 
of intense and poignant misery, and she longed for death 
as she felt her reason tottering. 

She was slowly but surely being made insane. 

When Edward Osgood and Johnny Ryan found them- 
selves back again in thejittle hotel in Tarrytown Johnny 
questioned the innkeeper about Woodbine Asylum, and 
learned from him that Dr. Hamilton was in need of a 
keeper. 

The merry-hearted newspaper man rushed upstairs to 
the room which they had hired, and slapping Osgood on 
the shoulder, said : 

“ We are in luck — the doctor of the madhouse wants a 
keeper, so I am going to forge you a reference, my dear 
boy, and send you to apply for the situation.” 

“Very well. The sooner the better. I hope our dis- 
guise is all right.” 

“ It is one of Lafont’s best. Why, even that bar- 
keeper did not recognize us. We’ll have an early din- 
ner, then I’ll hire a buggy and drive you out to the asy- 
lum. I will remain here and come to see you almost 
every day, as I do not think it advisable to put both of 
us under Dr. Hamilton’s care,” said the reporter, rapidly 
mapping out his plans. 

That afternoon they "drove to the asylum. Edward 


THE NEW -PATiENT. 


239 


Osgood applied for the keeper’s place, and the doctor, 
pleased with his appearance and references, engaged 
him at once. 

The first day Edward was in the madhouse he made 
the acquaintance of Ann Grey, and he very soon discov- 
ered she had a great weakness for whisky ; therefore, 
having procured a bottle by Johnny’s assistance the 
second night Edward was in his new place, he treated 
the other keepers and nurses. 

They all had quite a little spree to themselves. 

Osgood soon discovered that as soon as the doctor 
was absent these people indulged their appetites for 
drink to the utmost, and also their other equally strong 
passion for card playing. 

Knowing this, he determined to arrange his plans for 
the escape of Madame Roland on the first evening of the 
physician’s absence in the city. 

Osgood, having won Ann Grey’s confidence through 
treating her frequently to both wine and whisky, found 
out that Madame Roland was confined in a small, padded 
cell on the second story, near where the worst cases in 
the asylum were put. 

Talking to Ann on the fourth day of his stay in the 
institution, Edward Osgood said to her : 

‘ Ts the old lady a serious case ? ” 

“ She’s getting to be as mad as any of them ; though 
when she first came here I really believe Dr. Hamilton 
had taken her on account of the large fee her friends 
offered him, for I heard that lawyer who comes here oc- 
casionally to see him say : ‘ Mind you take good care of 
Madame Roland, and do not let her escape. I shall see 
that you are well paid for your trouble.’ ” 


24C 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DrUMMER. 


“The scoundrel!” muttered Edward between his 
teeth as he turned his head aside to hide the rage which 
was consuming his heart at the thought of John Blake’s 
inhumanity to the helpless'woman whom he and Rich- 
ard Arlington had remorselessly consigned to such a 
dreadful fate. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 


INSIDE OF WOODBINE ASYLUM. 

Edward Osgood won Ann’s good graces to such an 
extent that she allowed him to carry up the tray contain- 
ing Madame Roland’s supper the fifth night he was ac- 
quainted with her. 

“ If you wish to gratify your curiosity and see the old 
lady you can peep into the room when I go in,” said Ann 
to him on this occasion. 

“ Thank you. I should like to see her,” replied 
Osgood. 

Ann unlocked the door of the padded room, took the 
tray from Edward, and entered the room, leaving the 
door ajar. 

Madame Roland raised her sad eyes to Ann’s face when 
she came to the bedside. 

“ How much longer am I to remain here ? Oh, I feel 
that I am going mad ! ” 

At this moment a wild laugh, succeeded by screams, 
came from the next room ; then all was still for a sec- 
ond, until the most terrible shrieks resounded through 
the whole house. 

Madame Roland shuddered. 

“ Oh ! I cannot bear to hear that poor woman. It 
always, makes me feel nervous when I hear her 
screams.” 


241 


242 ROMANCE OF A DRV GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ You must get used to such things. She is only a 
poor mad girl — the man whom she was about to marry 
deserted her on her wedding day.” 

“ Poor child. She is living over the past, I suppose. 
Ann, I want to talk to you.” 

“ But I am too busy to-night,” replied the nurse. 

“ Pray put down that tray and listen to me. I will 
give you two hundred dollars if you will aid me to 
escape from this place.” 

“ You might as well make it a thousand while you are 
about it,” said the attendant as she drew a small table 
to the old lady’s bedside' and put the tray on it. 

“ So I will,” answered Madame Roland eagerly. “ Ah, 

I see you do not believe I have any money, but I have, 
for the old gentleman for whom I kept house during 
thirty years left me two thousand dollars.” 

“Well, I never ! You must be going mad for sure ! 
Do you think the people who sent you here will let you 
spend your money ? • Come, eat your victuals like a 
Christian, and think no more of the matter,” said Ann. 
as she poured out a cup of tea. 

“ Leave it. I will drink the tea, and I may be able to 
eat a mouthful by and by.” 

“ There’s a good soul ! ” said Ann, leaving the apart- 
ment. 

Edward Osgood was waiting for her. 

“ I saw the old lady, nurse, and she does not appear 
insane.” 

“ Oh, you don’t know the cunning of these people. 
The old woman was sane enough when they brought her 
here. But she had the brain fever afterward, and ever 
since she’s been touched in her upper story.” 


inside of woodbine asylum. 

“ Do you think she was sane when she first came to 
the asylum ? ” 

“Yes, sir, I do ; and what is more, I believe she was 
put here to be kept out of the way. Why, I’ve had lots 
of such patients in my time, but they always end up by 
becoming crazy.” 

“ Do you know, Ann, I believe such a fate is the worst 
that can befall any human being. Heigho ! I shall have 
to save some money and get at something else, or I may 
become a lunatic.” 

“ Nonsense, man ! I’ve been here five years, and I 
am not mad. The doctors say I am not the sort that 
makes good lunatics ; perhaps I haven’t got any brains 
to spare,” said Ann, laughing. 

Osgood smiled, and the two separated. 

When Ann came for Madame Roland’s tea tray 
she carried a small wineglass • of medicine in her 
hand. 

“ Dr. Hamilton says that you must drink this,” said 
the nurse, going to the bed and putting her arm under 
Madame Roland’s pillow to lift up her head. 

“ I am not ill — I do not need it.” 

“ But you did not sleep well last night, so you need 
an opiate.” 

“ But these drugs only stupefy me and make my head 
ache. The noise that poor girl makes in the next room 
keeps me awake. I would be a great deal better if I 
had another room. It is these opiates which are driv- 
ing me insane, and I will not swallow any more of 
them ! ” said the old housekeeper passionately. 

“ You are excited. Madame Roland, drink it down or 
I shall have to drench you with a shower bath,” said 


244 ROMANCE OF A DRV GOODS DRUMMER. 

Ann as she roughly lifted up the old lady’s head and 
held the glass to her lips. 

But the invalid refused to swallow it. 

“Go and tell Dr. Hamilton I want to see him.” 

“ I can’t — he’s engaged,” said Ann, forcing the medi- 
cine down her throat. 

The old lady made Ann spill nearly half of it, and the 
brutal woman, being semi-intoxicated, imagined her 
charge had given her extra trouble, so she put a strait- 
jacket on her, and^ chained her feet to the iron bedstead 
on which the invalid slept. 

Madame Roland prayed that night to Heaven to 
release her from her earthly sufferings. 

The next morning Johnny Ryan drove to the asylum 
to see his friend. 

“Well, Osgood, what luck?” he asked as the new 
keeper came out and stood beside the buggy. 

“ Not any so far. I have discovered that Madame Ro- 
land is confined in one of the padded rooms, and she is 
being driven mad by morphine and ill treatment.” 

“ I shall report this asylum for the benefit of the pub- 
lic in the New York Herald. It is a shame that such 
outrages are allowed to be perpetrated in a Chirstian 
community.” 

“ My only chance is to get the nurses intoxicated. 
You will have to bring me three bottles of whisky and 
two of sherry, all drugged. I have promised to treat all 
hands the first evening the doctor leaves. He spends 
most of his time in New York, but he has not been ab- 
sent since he engaged me,” said Osgood. 

“ Where do the servants sleep ? ” 

“ Upstairs in the attic. The only one we have to fear 


INSIDE OF WOODBINE ASYLUM. 


245 


will be the night watchman, who may refuse to have a 
drink, in which case I will undertake to master him if 
you are here to give me the assistance I will need.” 

“ All right, my boy,” replied Johnny as he stepped 
into the buggy and prepared to drive back to the hotel. 
“ By Jove ! look ! ” exclaimed the reporter, as he pointed 
to two figures walking up the lawn to the asylum door. 
“ I think I had better make myself scarce before Blake 
recognizes me.” 

Edward looked in the direction which Johnny pointed, 
and he saw the lawyer and Dr. Hamilton. 

“I wonder what brings that man here? I am afraid 
we will have to wait until Wednesday night to carry out 
our plans.” 

“Try to get off for an hour this evening, Osgood, 
and come up to the hotel. I want to have a chat with 
you.” 

Edward nodded to Johnny and went into the house 
by the basement door, and as his duties took him to the 
male ward, he ran no chance of seeing John Blake, 
whom he was anxious to avoid. 

In the meantime Dr. Hamilton had shown the lawyer 
into his private office. 

“ It is quite an event to see you here,” said he to 
Blake when they were seated. 

“I have been visiting my friend Arlington at his villa, 
and I thought I would drive over and see how Madame 
Roland was progressing,” answered the lawyer ; “ be- 
sides, you know her bill is due, and I have brought you 
the money. Please count it and give me a receipt.” 

The doctor counted the money and signed his name to 
the bill and handed it back to Mr. Blake. 


246 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Thank you, sir. I do not think the case will last 
many months more.” 

“ It seems to me, doctor, you had a similar opinion six 
months ago,” said the lawyer, while a sarcastic smile 
lingered around his lips. 

“ Yes, yes, I had ; but Providence disposes of such 
matters as it thinks best, and we must bow to the inevi- 
table,” replied the physician hypocritically. 

“ Doctor, when a person is mentally afflicted it is 
surely excusable to wish Providence would be so good 
as to release him from his misfortunes.” 

“ Very true — very true, Mr. Blake. Would you like 
to see my patient ? ” 

“ Is she fit to be seen ? ” 

“ Oh, quite,” replied Dr. Hamilton, who arose and 
rang the bell, which was immediately answered by his 
office boy. 

“ Tell Mrs. Grey I would like to see her.” 

“ Yes, doctor,” answered the boy as he left the room. 

“ My head nurse is a treasure. My dear sir, she 
knows more about insane people than many of our ex- 
perts. She has only one fault — she is rather fond of 
taking a glass too much sometimes, and if our patients 
are troublesome she is very apt to punish them too 
severely.” 

Doctor, do any of your patients ever escape ? ” 

“ I have never lost a patient in that way, sir ; I see to 
all these matters myself.” 

“You are right, doctor. What we see to ourselves we 
are sure of — that which we trust to others is chance.” 

At this moment Ann entered the room. 

“ Doctor, do you wish to see me ? ” 


INSIDE OF WOODBINE ASYLUM. 247 

“ Yes, Ann. Mr. Blake would like to see Madame 
Roland. Is she fit to be seen ? ” 

“ She is meek enough this morning ; last night, though, 
she gave me a deal of trouble. I had to put the strait- 
jacket on her.” 

“ The poor woman must have an opiate given to her 
every night, Ann.” 

“ I do not think so, doctor, unless you want to drive 
her mad. She is never any trouble only when I give 
her morphine.” 

“Well, I shall not prescribe morphine again. Do you 
think she is rational enough to recognize Mr. Blake ?” 

“ Certainly. The old lady will only be too glad to see 
any of her friends,” replied Ann. 

“ Come, then, Mr. Blake, I will show you the way to 
her apartment,” said the doctor, leading the way. 

The nurse went before the two men and unlocked the 
door of the padded cell. 

Madame Roland was dozing when they entered the 
room. 

John Blake, villain that he was, shuddered when he 
saw how the fine old countenance had changed. He 
noticed her white hair and colorless cheeks as she lay on 
the pillow. 

This was his work, his conscience told* him ; but he did 
not listen to the silent monitor, but turning to Dr. Ham- 
ilton, asked him if it were safe to be left alone with 
Madame Roland. 

“ Perfectly. Do you not see that she cannot move ? ” 
said the doctor, pointing to the manacles on her hands 
and feet. 

“ Very well, then ; I will speak to her,” said the lawyer. 


248 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ She is perfectly harmless ; and Ann will remain out- 
side the door, within call, if she should become excited.” 

“ Thank you. I see Madame Roland is awake, so 
leave us alone. I wish to see if she remembers me,” said 
John Blake. 

Dr. Hamilton and Ann left the room. 

The lawyer drew up a chair, and sat down beside the 
bedside of his victim as the poor old lady fixed her 
mournful eyes upon him. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 

The lawyer saw the mute look of reproach in the poor 
old lady’s eyes, but he was too hard-hearted to feel any 
remorse for the evident suffering of his victim. 

“ Madame Roland, do you know me ? ” 

“I do, John Blake. Did that unnatural man to 
whom I have been a mother send you here to see how 
near the grave I am ? I never injured Richard Arling- 
ton ; on the contrary, I have been the best friend he 
ever had.” 

“ My dear lady, we all know how devoted you were to 
Mr. Arlington and his cousin during their infancy and 
boyhood, and it was very much against my client’s will 
that you were sent here.” 

“ But I am not mad.” 

“ No one ever said you were,” replied the lawyer. 

Why was I brought here, then ? ” 

“ Because you were better out of our way. You wit- 
nessed the late Mr. Arlington’s will, and we were obliged 
to send you here.” 

‘‘ Oh, man ! you have no mercy, no conscience, to con- 
sign a human being to such a fate.^ I would rather die 
than continue to endure this misery. How can you 
sleep at night, knowing that I am being tortured in such 
a manner ? ” 


250 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ I never think of any of my clients’ affairs when 1 
retire,” John Blake answered coolly. 

“ Do you intend to murder me by inches ?” 

“ Your release from this asylum depends entirely upon 
yourself.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the old housekeeper as 
her pale cheeks flushed for a moment at the prospect of 
regaining her liberty. 

“ Mr. Arlington told me to offer you twenty thousand 
dollars if you would take an oath never to reveal that 
you witnessed his uncle’s will.” 

“ You wish me to join you in this conspiracy ? ” 

“ Mo.st assuredly we do.” 

“ Then you know that Henry Graham is alive. It is 
not his infant son of whom you are afraid,” said the old 
lady. 

Madame Roland believed that Laura Graham was dead, 
for she had seen what she supposed was her corpse. 

She remembered sitting beside the casket of Mrs Gra- 
ham when Mrs. Enrich brought her a cup of coffee. 

Madame Roland surmised the coffee was drugged from 
what Ann told her on the morning she recovered her 
senses and found herself an inmate of Woodbine 
Asylum. 

“ No, we have not heard from Captain Graham, and 
it is reasonable to suppose that he is dead, for if he had 
been a prisoner of war he would have been exchanged 
long ago.” 

“ I am sure that Harry Graham is alive — that he will 
yet return to claim his own,” said the old lady as her eyes 
flashed at the thought of the return of her dearly loved 
young friend. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 251 

“ Pshaw ! You are the only person that believes Cap- 
tain Graham is alive. Of course Richard Arlington, 
owing to his cousin’s death, is the real heir to the 
estate.” 

“ What has become of Captain Graham’s infant son ? ” 

“ Oh, he died a few months after his mother,” replied 
the lawyer. 

“ Poor little darling ! he could not live without his 
mother’s tender care. It is well for the poor little man. 
that he is in heaven, for he is spared a world of suffer- 
ing. Life, at best, is but a weary journey for most of 
us,” said Madame Roland as the tears rolled down her 
aged face. 

“You see it is folly to persist in refusing to come to 
an agreement with me regarding this affair.” 

“ Mr. Blake, why are you so anxious to bribe me if 
all the legatees of the late Mr. Arlington’s estate are 
dead excepting Richard ? ” 

“ Because we do not wish anyone to know that my 
late client ever made another will than the one which is 
now recorded as the last will of the old cotton mer- 
chant,” said the lawyer. 

“ Oh, you have committed forgery ! ” exclaimed 
Madame Roland. 

“ How dare you charge me with such a crime ? ” asked 
Blake angrily. 

“ Because you have convicted yourself, my dear sir. 
If your client did not inherit his uncle’s wealth under 
his last will you must either have altered another docu- 
ment in your possession or have made another will ; in 
either case you committed a fraud. If I remember 
rightly, Richard Arlington was to inherit but twenty 


25 i ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

thousand dollars by his late uncle’s will, and even if all 
the other heirs are dead my late honored master be- 
queathed his wealth to various charitable institutions, in 
such an event.” 

‘‘ My dear madam, you are raving ; there was no such 
clause in the late Mr. Arlington’s will^” said the lawyer 
impatiently. 

“ I am sure there was,” Madame Roland firmly re- 
plied. “Why do you keep me a -prisoner here? I am 
only a helpless old woman, and it is cruel to make me 
suffer simply because my conscience will not allow me 
to be dishonest.” 

“ I am sorry you are troubled with a conscience. 1 
got rid of mine years ago, and I have felt more comfort- 
able ever since,” answered the lawyer with rare frank- 
ness. 

“ I have heard that some men could live without 
either feeling or remorse, but I did not believe it until 
now,” answered Madame Roland as if she could not com- 
prehend such villainy. 

“ My dear madam, take my advice and get rid of your 
troublesome conscience, and take an oath never to re- 
veal that you witnessed the late Mr. Arlington’s last 
will.” 

“ I suffer bodily agony here, but I would endure men- 
tal misery until my dying day if I took such a false 
6ath,” replied the conscientious woman. 

“ You are your own jailer, and you shall remain here 
until you die if you will not swear to keep our secret.” 

“ No, I dare not do as you desire. I would commit a 
crime if I did.” 

“ But you would regain your liberty, and be a rich 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


253 


woman besides, as you would have ample means to 
supply all your desires. ]\Iy dear madam, life is sweet — 
the bright sunshine, the flowers, even the very breeze of 
the heavens cannot be appreciated enough only by 
those who have suffered a long imprisonment. Come, 
be sensible, take the oath. I shall send a carriage for 
you, and to-night you can sleep at the Arlington 
villa.” 

Poor Madame Roland raised her handcuffed hands, as 
if to implore Heaven to aid her in the hour of her ter- 
rible temptation ; but her emotions overpowered her, 
and for a moment she could make no answer to her 
heartless tempter. 

“ Very well, then ; remain where you are and perish,” 
said the lawyer impatiently. 

‘‘ But I am not mad ! Oh, have mercy on me ! ” cried 
his victim imploringly. 

“ Have mercy on yourself. Quick — decide — this is 
your last chance,” said the lawyer, rising and looking at 
his watch. 

“ I cannot commit a crime. Do not tempt me. You 
may murder me, but remember, John Blake, you too 
must die, and you will be forced to answer for your sins 
to a just Judge. You may go on from year to year and 
commit crimes of which the world will never suspect 
you ; but when your last hour comes the conscience you 
now despise will torture you throughout eternity.” 

“ Pshaw ! I do not believe in such old-fashioned 
ideas,” sneered the lawyer as he walked toward the 
door. 

Madame Roland, seeing her enemy about to depart and 
leave her to her fate, became excited, 


^^54 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Help, help ! ” she cried out. “ I am not mad — I will 
make the fortune of anyone ” 

John Blake called Ann, who at once entered the 
padded room. 

“ The poor woman is very bad,” said he to her. 

“ Oh, very, sir. She often gets these spells.” 

“ O Ann, you are aware that I am not mad, and 
that villain knows it too,” said Madame Roland excitedly. 

“Keep quiet and do not annoy the gentleman,” Ann 
replied impatiently as she took down a short riding 
whip. “If I hear another word out of your mouth I 
will give you a dose of this,” said the brutal nurse. 

“ Oh, have mercy — have mercy ! ” cried the unhappy 
old lady. 

“Good-Evening, Madame Roland — good-evening,” said 
the lawyer, a mocking smile on his mean countenance 
as he stood on the threshold of the padded cell. 

“ I will see that the old girl has the best of care,” said 
the nurse to him, and turning to the helpless woman, 
Ann flourished her whip. 

“ Are you going to begin again ? Do you want a 
whipping like I gave you last week ? ” 

“ Leave me, I will be quiet,” answered the poor victim 
as the tears flowed down her withered cheeks. 

“ Mind that you do, for if I’ve got to come up here 
again I’ll whip you so that you’ll remember it for a 
month,” said Ann as she followed John Blake out of the 
padded room. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


MADAM^; Roland’s escape. 

When John Blake entered the doctor’s office he 
found him standing by his desk with his hat in his 
hand. 

“ I will ride with you as far as the Arlington villa, and 
then I will walk over to the depot, as I have an appoint- 
ment in New York this evening.” 

“Come, then,” said the lawyer, looking at his watch. 
“ Your train leaves in half an hour, and I’ll get Arling- 
ton’s coachman to drive you there. 

Dr. Hamilton called his office boy and gave him mes- 
sages for Ann and the head keeper, then he got into the 
carriage with Mr. Blake. 

Ten minutes after the doctor left the asylum there 
was an unusual commotion which attracted Osgood’s 
attention. 

Ann told him the doctor had gone to New York. 

Edward thought the present opportunity was a good 
one to rescue Madame Roland. 

He sent one of the stable boys with a note to Johnny 
Ryan, informing him of the fact of Dr. Hamilton’s ab- 
sence. 

An hour after he received Osgood’s message Johnny 
Ryan drove up to Woodbine Asylum. 

When he drove into the stable he said to the hostler : 


255 


25 j 6 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

“ Please water and feed my horse, but do not unhar- 
ness him, as I shall only remain a few hours with my 
friend.” 

“All right, sir,” replied Joe. 

“ And, Joe, no matter what you se^ do not appear to 
see it.” 

“ What do you mean, sir ? ” 

“ There, do you see this ?” asked the reporter, holding 
up a five-dollar bill. 

“ Oh, yes, sir,” replied the man, smiling. 

Johnny handed him the five dollars, saying : 

“ Pocket the money and do not tell the doctor if some 
of the nurses drive down to the village.” 

“ All right, sir ; I understand. We never tell the doc- 
tor anything,” said Joe as he put the money in his 
pocket. 

The reporter took the box containing the drugged 
wines and liquor out of the buggy and went around to 
the front door, rang the visitors’ bell, and asked to see 
his friend. 

Edward was delighted to see Johnny, and ushered him 
into his own apartment. 

After a brief conversation Edward showed Johnny 
through the asylum. 

When they came to the wing in which were the padded 
rooms, the shrieks, wild laughter, and discordant songs 
made the reporter shudder. 

“ I be blessed if I would not be as mad as a March 
hare if I heard this horrible hubbub long,” said Johnny. 

“ I would not remain here a month for any amount of 
money. Think of what that poor old lady has endured. 
The girl in the room next to her is never quiet except 


MADAME Roland’s escape. 


257 


when she’s asleep. To endure such a fate is worse 
than Egyptian bondage. These wretches are murdering 
her by inches. I pray Heaven to aid us in our efforts 
for her escape. May I live to punish her enemies and 
mine ! ” 

“ Hush, Osgood ! Someone will overhear you.” 

Edward brought Johnny down to tea and introduced 
him to the nurses and keepers. The reporter endeavored 
to make a favorable impression on the party, and he suc- 
ceeded so well that in half an hour after his introduction 
to his new acquaintances they all thought him exceed- 
ingly agreeable. 

After tea all the nurses and keepers, except Ann and 
the head keeper, went into the sitting room, and were 
soon engaged playing cards. 

When Ann and her companion had made their rounds 
to the rooms of the patients they joined the party in the 
sitting room. 

Edward then went upstairs and brought down the 
box of wines and liquors. 

. “ It is my turn tp treat to-night, boys,” said the young 

man, opening the box. 

One of the nurses brought a pitcher of ice water, 
another a box containing glasses, and Osgood, taking a 
bottle of wine, said : 

“ I am going to beg the cook to let us have some 
cake.” 

He got the cake and he managed to make the cook 
drink several glasses of wine before he left the kitchen, 
also the girl who was her assistant. 

Edward, knowing that these women would soon feel 
the effects of the drugged wine, hastened upstairs. 


258 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

Johnny soon succeeded in getting all the nurses and 
keepers to drink, and in an hour the young man had the 
satisfaction of seeing the entire party under the influence 
of the drug. 

Taking Ann’s keys out of her pocket, and leaving 
Johnny to watch so as to guard against being inter- 
rupted, he repaired to the padded roonxip which Madame 
Roland was confined. 

Edward unlocked the door, went in, and bent over the 
old lady’s bed. 

^ “ Are you asleep, madam ? ” 

“ Who could sleep in the position I am in ? ” moaned 
she. 

Edward held up the lamp he carried in his hand and 
saw that Madame Roland’s hands were manacled and her 
feet chained to the floor. 

“ Great Heavens ! these inhuman monsters have 
chained you. Never mind, I will soon loosen you,” said 
Edward, examining the bunch of keys which he had taken 
from Ann’s pocket. 

He tried several in the padlocks that fastened the 
chains and found one at last that fitted. He then as- 
sisted the old lady to a sitting position. 

Heaven bless you for your humanity. You believe 
that I am sane or you would not loosen my bonds.” 

“Yes, I believe you are as sane as I am,” replied 
Edward, who saw that owing to his disguise Madame Ro- 
land did not recognize him. 

“ Heaven be praised,” cried the old lady, bursting into 
tears as she felt she had found a friend. After she was 
somewhat calmer she turned to the young man and 
said : 


MADAME Roland’s escape. 259 

“ You may get yourself into trouble for your kindness 
to me.” 

“ Do you not recognize me, then ?” asked Edward. 

The old lady looked at him for a moment and shook 
her head sadly. 

The young man took off his glasses. 

“ See, I am disguised in order to help you to escape 
from this place. I hired to Dr. Hamilton as a keeper 
last week. I discovered you were here through a friend 
of mine who is now keeping watch downstairs.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Madame Roland, “ no one who has not 
gone through what I have can tell how rejoiced I feel at 
the prospect of escape.” 

“ We have not a moment to lose, madam, as we may 
be interrupted. Dress yourself as quickly as you can. I 
am going to my room, and I will return for you in a few 
minutes — I will leave this lamp here. I see that Ann has 
left your clothes hanging on the back of the door.” 

“ I shall be ready,” answered the old lady, getting out 
of bed. 

The excitement had given her new strength. 

Edward went to his room, packed his clothes, and 
with his valise in one hand, and a long black cloak on 
his arm, which he had for the occasion, knocked at the 
door of the padded room. 

The old lady was dressed, but she was looking about 
the apartment to find her bonnet and shawl. 

‘‘ I cannot find my bonnet,’*’ said the bewildered 
woman. 

“ Put on this cloak and pull the hood down over your 
face,” said Edward, assisting Madame Roland to put on 
the wrap. 


26 o 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


While Edward was thus engaged the reporter was 
making himself at home in the physician’s office. 

He had lit the doctor’s lamp and was seated at that 
gentleman’s desk, writing a description of Woodbine 
Asylum, and the cruelties practiced by the keepers and 
nurses of that institution. He h^ just written the 
above when he heard a noise. 

The French windows of the room which Dr. Hamilton 
used as his office opened on the veranda which led to 
the lawn in front of Woodbine Asylum. 

Johnny had not pulled down the shades when he lit 
the doctor’s lamp, therefore anyone coming up the lawn 
could see into the room. 

Dr. Hamilton had missed his train, and being pre- 
vailed upon by the lawyer and Mr. Arlington, had spent 
the evening at the villa. He had walked back to the 
asylum for exercise, and he was more than astonished 
to see a light in his office. 

He found one of the windows slightly raised, and 
throwing up the sash, he walked into the office. 

The reporter started to his feet when he saw the doc- 
tor enter the room, but his presence of mind did not 
desert him. He hastily folded his papers and placed 
them in his pocket. 

“ What are you doing in my office, sir ? ” 

“ Making myself at home. I am on the staff of the 
New York Herald, and I came down here to write up this 
asylum.” 

“ Why, sir, this is an unwarrantable intrusion ! ” cried 
the doctor, pale with rage. 

At this moment a shrill scream was heard, followed by 
cries of “ Help ! help ! ” 


MADAME Roland’s escape. 


261 


Both Johnny and the doctor rushed upstairs and into 
the padded room, where they found Ann Grey struggling 
in Osgood’s arms. 

Ann, being more habituated than the others to intoxi- 
cating drinks, was the first one to recover from the effect 
of the drugged wine. 

She missed her keys and at once commenced to search 
for them. Not finding them in her room, she imagined 
she had dropped them in the second corridor. 

While she was busily engaged looking for the missing 
keys, she was surprised to see Madame Roland’s door 
open and a light in her room. 

It flashed across Ann’s mind that something was amiss, 
and when she saw Madame Roland enveloped in a cloak, 
and Edward Osgood standing by her with a valise in his 
hand, she rushed into the room and raised the alarm. 

“ One word more and it shall be your last,” cried 
Edward, pointing a pistol at her head. “ Come, get into 
this strait-jacket. I will give you a dose of your own 
medicine. Hold that pistol, please, madam, but be care- 
ful ; it is loaded.” 

The old lady took the weapon, and Edward commenced 
a silent but fierce battle with Ann to get her into the 
strait-jacket. 

“ Mercy ! mercy ! I will choke if you put that thing 
on me,” cried Ann. 

“ I will show you the same mercy as you have shown 
to this poor woman.” 

When the doctor and Johnny entered the room Ed- 
ward had succeeded in getting the strait-jacket on Ann. 

“ What means this outrage ? ” demanded Dr. Hamilton. 

“ It means that you have a sane woman confined here 


262 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


against her will, and I am determined she shall escape,” 
said Edward, taking the pistol from Madame Roland 
and pointing it at the doctor’s head. 

“ Stand aside, or I’ll shoot you with as little compunc- 
tion as I would a dog.” 

Dr. Hamilton, being unarmed, realized that resistance 
was useless. 

“ I shall lock you in, and you can keep Ann company 
until some of your keepers regain their senses and open 
your door.” 

“ I yield because I am unarmed ; but 1 shall endeavor 
to rescue my p^ient. The woman is mad, and she will 
find no one in the village willing to harbor her,” said the 
doctor to the young men. 

“ We will see about that. I am satisfied this lady is 
sane, and she shall escape from here. Come, madam,” 
said Edward, taking the trembling old lady by the hand 
as he led her out of the padded room, while Johnny 
Ryan locked and bolted the door, leaving Ann and the 
doctor prisoners. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 

The reporter hurried to the stables, and jumping into 
his buggy with a nod to the hostler, drove to the side 
door of the asylum. 

Osgood assisted Madame Roland into the buggy, and 
jumping in beside her, told Johnny to drive as fast as 
possible. 

When the party reached the depot the two young 
men found that there was no train to New York for an 
hour. 

“ We will not dare to go to New York by train, Os- 
good, as Dr. Hamilton will telegraph to stop us at the 
depot on the arrival of the train.” 

“ What is to be done ? ” asked Edward. 

“ Let me think,” replied the reporter. 

“ Oh, don’t let me fall into the hands of my enemies 
again ! ” cried Madame Roland imploringly. 

“ We will not allow anyone to take you back to the 
asylum, madam,” replied Osgood. 

“ Thank you for your great kindness to me. You 
have preserved more than my life. I felt that my reason 
was tottering. If I had not escaped I should have gone 
mad.” 

“ Anyone would become insane in such a place. I 
spent some time in Sing Sing prison, therefore I know 
how to sympathize with you.” 

263 


264 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Surely you never committed any crime ? ” 

“ No, madam. I witnessed the late Mr. Arlington’s 
will, and being employed in John Blake’s office, he 
managed to have me arrested for robbing him. On cir- 
cumstantial evidence I was convicted and sentenced. I 
know from sad experience what being deprived of your 
liberty means. 

“May Heaven bless you and your friend for coming 
to my rescue,” said the old lady, with tears in her eyes. 

“ Come, jump into the buggy. I will drive over to 
Mr. Arlington’s villa and see Kate. She will tell me 
where to hide madam until the hue and cry over her 
escape has ceased.” 

“ Suppose we meet the doctor.” 

“ Pshaw ! he’ll go to the telegraph office first, but he 
will not tell Richard Arlington that madam has escaped 
until he has given up all hope of. capturing her.” 

“ You may be right, but it is running a great risk,” 
said Osgood as they turned into the road leading to the 
villa. 

Johnny jumped out of the buggy and told Osgood 
to wait for him when they came within sight of the 
house. He ran down the walk leading to the villa, rang 
the bell of the side door, and inquired for Kate Fagan. 
After waiting about ten minutes Kate came to the 
door. 

“O Johnny, is it you?” asked the young girl in 
surprise when she saw her lover. 

“ Come, walk down to the gate with me.” 

Kate and Johnny strolled down the graveled pathway 
arm in arm until they reached the gate. 

The youn^ girl looked up into Johnny’s face, and she 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


265 


suddenly became serious, for she saw that he was unusu- 
ally quiet, and there was an expression of care about 
his eyes which she had never noticed before. 

“ Kate, I am in trouble, and I have come to you for 
help.” 

“ I will do anything I can for you.” 

“ I know you will, dear. I have aided a poor old 
woman to escape from Woodbine Asylum. She is per- 
fectly sane ; I will tell you her story some other time. 
I want to know now if you have any acquaintance in 
the village whom we can trust to keep her during the 
night ? ” 

• “ No, I do not know anyone intimately, and I have but 
few acquaintances in the village to whom I would care 
to send you,” replied Kate. 

“ We must find a lodging for Madame Roland to-night, 
some safe place where we can hide the old lady,” said 
the reporter, who felt sadly disappointed that Kate could 
not recommend him to someone. 

“ It is too bad that I do not know of anyone, Johnny ; 
but I will give the old lady my bed for the night. Mrs. 
Arlington will not know anything about it, as I sleep on 
the ground floor off a small hall. There is a small door 
at the end of this passage way that opens into the garden, 
and it is very easy to bring your friend in without any- 
one seeing her.” 

“ By Jove ! it is a dangerous experiment, but we will 
try it,” said the reporter. “ Remain here, Kate, until I 
run and consult Osgood.” 

When he reached the buggy and sprang in Osgood 
was surprised to see the strange look on his young 
friend’s face. 


266 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ I just saw Dr. Hamilton and his keeper drive down 
that crossroad to the left of the Arlington villa, so drive 
fast, for we have not a moment to lose ! ” cried the 
reporter in a low tone of voice. 

“We will be captured if we rush into the enemy’s 
arms,” said Osgood. 

“No; it is our only hope now,” said Johnny as 
he informed Osgood and Madame Roland of Kate’s 
offer. 

The poor old lady shuddered ; she was naturally a 
brave woman, but she hesitated to accept Kate’s offer. 

“ Madam, you had better trust yourself to my friend 
to-night. I know she is an honest girl and I can place 
you in her care,” said Johnny as he looked apprehen- 
sively down the road. 

“ I think Johnny is right. Madam, to avoid being 
recaptured it is the only thing we can do ; besides, it is 
the very last place they will think of looking for you. 
To-morrow I will see Mrs. Arlington, and unless every 
one of the generous impulses has died within her breast 
she will aid you to reach New York undiscovered.” 

Johnny introduced Madame Roland to Kate. 

“ May Heaven bless you both for your goodness to 
me,” said Madame Roland with grateful tears in her 
eyes as she took the hands of both young men at parting. 

Kate took the old lady to her room, put her to bed, 
and then went downstairs. 

She complained of a headache and coaxed the cook to 
make her a cup of tea, which she carried upstairs, 
saying : 

“ It is too hot to drink now. I will drink it in my 
room and get right into bed. Good-night all ! Don’t 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 267 

disturD me, please. I will lock my door so that I can be 
quiet. Mrs. Arlington told me to go to bed.” 

“ Faith, it is good to be you. I should not mind being 
a lady’s maid,” said the gpod-natured cook as Kate walked 
out of the kitchen with her hot cup of tea in her hand. 

The good-hearted girl brought the tea to the old lady, 
saying : 

“ I am sorry this is all I can get you this evening.” 

“ Thank you, it is all I need ; I am not hungry,” re- 
plied Madame Roland, drinking the tea. 

Kate locked the door and pulled down the shades, and 
sat down to a small table in the corner to pass the night 
in reading a novel. 

“ I am afraid I am keeping you out of your bed,” said 
Madame Roland. 

“ Never mind. I will take one of the pillows and lie 
down on the lounge when I am tired of reading. Do 
not worry about me ; but please do not speak, for if we 
are overheard someone might knock at the door and 
ask who I had in my bedroom. Good-night, madam, 
and pleasant dreams,” whispered the young girl as she 
came and leaned over the old lady, took the teacup out 
of her hand, and smoothed her pillow. 

Madame Roland soon fell asleep, and did not awaken 
until the sunbeams were dancing on the window at the 
foot of her bed. 

Kate was not to be seen, as she had gone to attend to 
her usual duties. 

As soon as Johnny ate his breakfast, he left Osgood at 
the hotel, and walked to the villa. He loitered around 
for nearly an hour, when he saw John Blake and Rich- 
ard Arlington drive away. 


268 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


He then rang the door bell of the entrance gate, which 
Kate answered. 

“ How is the old lady ? ” 

“ I left her sound asleep in my bed.” 

“ You are a dear, good-hearted girl. Where has Ar- 
lington gone ? ’* 

“To New York for the day, with Mr. Blake.” 

“ Thank you, Kate. Good-by,” and the young man 
snatched a kiss from the blushing girl, and hastily walked 
toward\the village. 


An hour afterward Edward Osgood made his appear- 
ance at the entrance gate of the villa, and after ringing, 
inquired for Mrs. Arlington. 

When the beautiful woman entered her reception room 
and saw the man to whom her heart really belonged she 
sunk into a chair and murmured his name below her 
breath. 

She thought he had joined the army, and she was sur- 
prised to see him. 

“ I call on you to-day, Edith, to bid you farewell for- 
ever, for I could not leave your neighborhood without 
one glimpse of your fair, false face. To-morrow I enlist 
for the war, and perhaps a friendly bullet may put an end 
to all my troubles.” 

“ O Edward, I cannot bear to hear you speak of such 
an awful possibility,” cried the unhappy lady, wringing 
her hands. 

“ I came here to-day not only to bid you farewell, but 
to ask you to do me a favor.” 

“ I will do anything for you that lies in my power,” 
replied Mrs. Arlington earnestly. 

“ Last night I aided Madame Roland to escape from 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 269 

Woodbine Asylum, where she was consigned to a living 
tomb by your husband.” 

- Oh, how could Richard be guilty of siich cruelty ? ” 

“ He and his friend Blake schemed to get your late 
cousin’s fortune, and they succeeded by destroying my 
character and placing Madame Roland in an asylum. 
Last night, aided by your maid, the old lady slept under 
your roof. 

“ I do not understand,” said his listener, looking be- 
wildered. 

“ Madame Roland slept in Kate Fagan’s bed. She is 
even now in her room. Will you aid her to reach New 
York without delay ? I shall return on the three o’clock 
train, and if you could arrange matters so Kate can go to 
New York with Madame Roland I would be very grateful.” 

“ I shall do so,” replied Mrs. Arlington briefly. 

“Thank you, Edith. You have erred, but you still 
possess the noble heart I always thought you had. Tell 
Madame Roland not to feel uneasy — that Mr. Ryan and 
I will be on the same train, but we will not speak to her, 
as Dr. Hamilton may have employed a detective. Tell 
her to go at once to some trustworthy friend who can 
and will protect her against the machinations of her 
enemies. I will now bid you good-by. Pray for me 
sometimes. Farewell ! ” 

Edward raised her white hand to his lips and hastily 
left the room. 

Madame Roland was provided with a dark traveling 
suit and a close bonnet with a veil which hid her face. 
Mrs, Arlington had her lunch served that day in her 
sitting room, and she made the old lady partake of the 
meal with her. 


270 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


She ordered the carriage and went to the depot with 
Madame Roland and Kate, and bought their tickets for 
them. 

At parting she slipped a purse containing five hun- 
dred dollars iqto the old housekeeper’s hand, and whis- 
pered : 

^‘You may need it. Take it and try to forgive my 
erring husband.” 

“ Miv dear child, I leave him to Heaven. Good-by. 
Perhaps, some day, I may be able to return your kind- 
ness.” 

As Edith Arlington stood on the platform after assist- 
ing Madame Roland into the car, Edward Osgood came 
up and silently shook hands with her— the next moment 
the shrill whistle sounded and the train steamed out of 
the depot. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 




THE DESERTED WIFE. 

For weeks Margaret’s infant son lay ill unto death 
with a slow intermitting fever, but the devoted mother 
nursed the baby with the tenderest care until the doctor 
pronounced the child convalescent. 

The young mother’s joy over the recovery of her lit- 
tle son was clouded by the absence of her husband. 

It was nearly two months since Albert Williams had 
deserted his beautiful wife. 

Her husband’s absence had alarmed her, but she did 
not imagine that he ever intended to desert her, for 
she had received several sums of money from him, 
though he only wrote a line or two when he sent the 
money orders. 

Margaret was very anxious regarding her husband’s 
conduct toward her, but she could not for a moment 
imagine that she was to become the victim of a vile con- 
spiracy. 

Therefore she was surprised, indignant, and heart- 
broken when she received a letter from her husband 
accusing her of infidelity. 

The unfortunate woman knew she had been true to ’ 
her marital vows, and she felt justly indignant that the 
man who had sworn to love and protect her should be 
the first one to question her honor. 

271 


272 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


A few days after the receipt of this letter she got 
a notice from Mr. Little, her husband’s lawyer, that Mr. 
Williams intended to sue for an absolute divorce. 

Margaret uttered a piteous cry, and sunk on her knees 
beside her child’s cradle, sobbing as if her heart would 
break, feeling that her trials were almost beyond en- 
durance. 

The unhappy woman called the next morning on Mr. 
Little. 

Sh^ was very pale when she was shown into the 
lawyer’s private office. 

The great divorce lawyer was surprised to see that 
she was so beautiful, and he was very much impressed 
by her aristocratic air. 

“I am Mr. Albert Williams’ wife, sir,” said Margaret, 
introducing herself to Mr. Little as he handed her a 
chair, into which she sank, for she trembled so violently 
that she could scarcely speak. 

The lawyer bowed gravely. 

“ I understand that my husband intends to sue for 
a divorce ? ” 

“ Yes, madam, he does,” replied Mr. Little. 

“ On what grounds ? ” demanded Margaret. 

“ Infidelity,” briefly replied the lawyer. 

“With whom?” asked the unhappy woman as every 
particle of color fled from her face, leaving it almost 
ghastly in its intense pallor. 

“ Mr. Henry Lacy of New York.” 

“ Merciful Heaven ! ” exclaimed Margaret excitedly. 
“I loathe that man. The charge is utterly false.” 

“ My dear madam, Mr. Lacy has sworn that he called 
on you at your home on the evening of July 19, and 


THE DESERTED WIFE. 273 

that he spent an hour with you alone,” replied the 
lawyer. 

“ Mr. Lacy called and insulted me ; but I ordered him 
out of the house,” answered Margaret. 

“ Have you any witnesses to prove that such was the 
case?” 

“ Alas ! I have not, as my only servant was absent visit- 
ing a relative who was ill. There was no one in the 
house but myself and my infant son on the night when 
Mr. Lacy was there.” 

“ It is very unfortunate for you, madam, that Mr. 
Lacy figures as co-respondent in the case.” 

“ The man has perjured his soul if he has sworn to 
such an atrocious falsehood.” 

“ He not only swears to the fact, but he was seen by 
one of our Chicago detectives to enter your house. He 
met the officer on his way to your residence, and he told 
him he was about to visit Mrs. Williams, an old sweet- 
heart of his.” 

“ Merciful Heaven ! can such rascality exist ? ” asked 
Margaret, bursting into tears. 

Mr. Little, hard-hearted, practical man of the world 
that he was, felt drawn toward his client’s unhappy wife. 
He had a keen sympathy for her, and he wished for the 
moment that he had nothing whatever to do with the 
case. 

“ My dear madam, this is to me a very painful piece of 
business. If Mr. Williams and Mr. Lacy have combined 
to ruin your reputation on circumstantial evidence I am 
sorry that I have undertaken the case. If you have any 
male relatives I advise you to consult them, also to em- 
ploy a lawyer, otherwise you will lose the case,” 


274 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


Margaret arose and thanked the lawyer for his kind- 
ness, and drying her eyes, she bowed to him and walked 
out of his office, knowing that her honor would be tar- 
nished through the vile calumnies of her enemies. She 
was satisfied that David Jones had a great deal to do in 
influencing his nephew to seek a divorce. 

Margaret knew that David Jones had never forgiven 
her for repulsing his dishonorable suit. 

Harry Lacy's words, when she ordered him out of her 
pfpsence, flashed on her mind : 

“You shall remember this night until your dying 
day.” 

Yes, he had kept his word, and the cowardly villain 
had his revenge by ruining her reputation. 

If Margaret had only known where her brother was at 
that moment she would have gone to him in her misery ; 
but she had not heard from or of him since he had been 
discharged from Sing Sing. 

She felt a sensitive shrinking from exposing her affairs 
to either Mrs. North or her daughter Lizzie ; besides, 
she did not know what vile rumors they might have 
heard about her. 

Since her days of poverty Margaret had made but 
few acquaintances, and the Norths were the only inti- 
mate friends she had. 

She felt she was utterly alone in the world except for 
the helpless babe that was dependent on her. 

A feeling of apathy came over Margaret’s spirit, and 
she did not consult any lawyer, nor did she take any 
steps to prevent her husband from obtaining his di- 
vorce. 

David Jones, being anxious for reasons of his own, 


THE DESERTED WIFE. 275 

that Albert should be made legally free, spent money 
freely, and hurried Mr. Little’s proceedings. 

As Margaret did not attempt to dispute the matter, 
Albert Williams obtained an absolute divorce before a 
special referee early in September. 

Margaret had been prostrated by illness and the con- 
stant strain on her nerves. 

She was only just able to walk about the house again 
early in the autumn. 

One morning she received a copy of a New York 
paper with a column marked with red ink, which Harry 
Lacy sent to her, for he wished to make the woman 
who had dared to scorn his suit suffer. 

It was an account of the marriage of Albert Williams 
and Josephine Osbourne, the daughter of the celebrated 
Wall Street broker. 

A full description of the wedding, which had taken 
place in Grace Church, and the reception at the home 
of the bride, followed, also an account of the magnifi- 
cent trousseau, jewels, and wedding gifts, and the an- 
nouncement of the departure of the happy pair on an 
extended tour to the Pacific States. 

Soon after Margaret had finished reading the notice 
Bridget found her mistress beside her baby’s cradle 
insensible. She had fallen there and dropped the paper 
containing the fatal tidings from her hand. 

What did this marriage mean ? Simply that her hus- 
band had obtained a divorce, and that he had taken 
advantage of her unprotected condition to ruin her repu- 
tation. 

He would not have dared to wed a rich lady in New 
York had he not been free to do so. 


276 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

All this rushed through Margaret’s mind when 
she recovered her senses. She clasped her worse than 
fatherless boy to her bosom, while tears rained down 
on his baby face from the eyes of the grief-stricken 
mother. 

Her mind was made up. 

She would leave Chicago and return to New York. 
She was alone in the great Western city with a young, 
delicate infant that required constant care, so she wrote 
to her faithful servant Ann, telling her that she was in 
trouble, and on the following Monday she would start 
for her native city. 

Margaret had no sooner decided on this course than 
she called Bridget, and told her that “owing to circum- 
stances she would be obliged to break up her home and 
return to New York.” 

“ Sure, ma’am, it is myself that will miss you and the 
sweet baby, but if you are going among your friends I 
shall be pleased, for you would surely grieve yourself to 
death here. You have never been the same woman since 
the master left.” 

When Bridget left the room Margaret commenced 
pacing the floor. 

It was a habit she indulged in when she was suffering 
from any mental strain. 

She called to mind the man who had been her husband ; 
yes, she felt he belonged to her in the sight of Heaven, 
that his divorce was a fraud, and that she had been de- 
prived of her wifehood by a vile conspiracy. 

She drew on her imagination, and saw Albert gayly 
speeding on his wedding tour in company with the dia- 
mond lady, who was now his acknowledged wife. 


THE DESERTED WIFE. 277 

How the word made the hot blood tingle in her cheeks 
in a scarlet blush of shame. 

“ Fool ! ” she cried in her self-abasement, “ utterly 
blind fool that I was to suffer myself to be thus imposed 
upon ! " 

She recalled the circumstances of the case. 

How cruelly they led up to this pitiful ending of her 
bright love dreams. 

The man whom she revered, worshiped, because he 
had comforted and soothed her during her troubles, had 
taken advantage of her helplessness to ruin her life. 

She felt so weary of the burden of existence, that if it 
had not been for the child, whose very life was depend- 
ent on hers, she would have been content to die. 

Bridget thought that her mistress was about to return 
to her husband. The faithful Irishwoman imagined that 
the young couple had quarreled but had made up their 
differences, and were about to live together again. She 
assisted her mistress to take up the carpets and get the 
furniture ready for the second-hand dealer to cart away. 

The good woman helped Margaret to pack her trunks, 
and she went with her to the depot, held the child until 
Margaret purchased her ticket, and then assisted her to 
the train. 

The tears streamed down Bridget’s face when she 
kissed the sleeping infant, and shook hands with the 
beautiful woman who had been a kind and considerate 
mistress to her ; but the woman was glad to see 
Margaret leave Chicago, for she believed she was going 
to her husband’s home in New York. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


BEHIND THE COUNTER. 

When the train arrived at the Grand Central Depot 
Ann stood on the platform ready to meet Margaret. 

She was keeping a quiet lodging house in Allen Street. 

Ann’s generous Irish heart was delighted to be able to 
s^rve her young mdstress. 

“ Give me the baby. Your arms must ache,” said 
Ann, taking the boy from his mother. “ Give the checks 
to the cabman and he will see to your trunks.” 

“ I expressed them to your house on the train,” replied 
Margaret. 

“ Sure, your troubles have not taken your business 
head off your shoulders, ma’am,” said Ann smiling. 

“ I should be sorry if my mind would become affected 
by trouble, Ann, though Heaven only knows what I 
have endured since we parted,” 

Margaret then told the faithful woman how Albert 
Williams, aided by Harry Lacy, had procured a fraudu- 
lent divorce. 

“ The smooth-tongued villain ! ” cried Ann indig- 
nantly. I never liked him. I used to hate to have him 
call on you, and as for that Mr. Lacy, I never had any 
use for him since he tried to kiss Kitty O’Neil, the pretty 
chambermaid we had when we lived on Fifth Avenue. 
Faith ! I was always sure he was a sort of snake in the 
grass.” 

The cab rattled through the streets of New York 

278 


BEHIND THE COUNTER. 


279 

and finally turned the corner of Grand and Allen streets 
and stopped before an old-fashioned, two-story base- 
ment and attic brick house. 

“ This is my house, Mrs. Williams,” said Ann, who 
was determined to ignore the Chicago divorce and pay 
her young lady every respect. “ I am only too glad to 
welcome you to it.” 

Ann showed Margaret into a plainly furnished but 
scrupulously clean bedroom on the second floor. 

“ Take off your things and I will undress the baby, 
for I want to see who he looks like. 

“ Oh, he’s a beautiful darling with your own sweet 
eyes in his head. He will be his own mother’s boy and 
a comfort to her when he grows up,” she added, kissing 
the child, who began to whimper. 

Margaret took her boy in her arms and sat down in 
the rocking chair to nurse him. 

“ I will go downstairs and make you a cup of tea, 
which will refresh you.” 

“ Thank you, Ann ; but do not go to any trouble on 
my account,” said Margaret. 

“ I could not do enough for you, for did I not earn 
every cent of my money in the service of your father 
and mother ? ” 

You worked hard for your money, Ann, and there is 
no reason why I should come to be a burden on you,” 
answered Margaret. 

“ Sure, you would never be a burden. I am too glad to 
have you to wait on once more,’* said the kind-hearted 
woman. 

The following week Margaret obtained a position in 
Moore & Joslin’s store in Grand Street. 


28 o 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


She hired a small girl to take care of the baby dur- 
ing her absence from home. 

Lucy was a bright, tidy little German girl, arid she 
had been used to taking care of her mother’s younger 
children, so she soon handled the baby in such a manner 
that he became accustomed to her. 

Margaret gave her little nursery maid many injunc- 
tions about her boy before she started for Moore & 
Joslin’s. 

When she arrived at the store a host of girls and sales- 
women were marching past a young man, who checked 
them off, for this was one of the places where the 
employees were fined for being late. 

Up a long flight of stairs — how strange and yet how 
familar everything looked — next into a long room lined 
with cubby holes, into which each girl pushed her hat 
and wrap. 

Margaret’s box was 730, and she smiled bitterly, for 
she remembered this had been her number in Jones Bros.’ 

All the girls were bidding each other “ good-morn- 
ing ” with great formality, but much cheerfulness. 

On they went till they came to the dining room with 
its long tables, and place at the end railed off for the 
cashier. 

Here stood a girl of some fifteen years, who took care 
of the lunches. These were placed inside the gratings 
and securely locked up. 

Soon Margaret was once more behind the counter, a 
saleslady again. 

The morning was a trying one. Margaret was han- 
dling underwear, a line of goods to which she was unac- 
customed. 


BEHIND THE COUNTER. 


281 


She got on tolerably well, however, and won a smile 
of approval from the head of the stock. Miss French. 

The floor walker also seemed an amiable person. He 
had a careworn, kindly face, and Margaret sympathized 
with him, for she felt certain that he knew what trouble 
meant. 

After lunch, during which she made the aquaintance 
of several of the other salesladies, Margaret felt more 
at home. 

She was uneasy about her baby, as it was the first day 
she had been absent from him, and she was glad when 
it was time to go home. 

The child was asleep when Margaret returned to 
Allen Street, and Ann had a tempting repast waiting 
for her. 

Thus ended the first day in Margaret's new position. 

She was far from being a happy woman, for she felt 
her situation was a very unfortunate one ; a mother — 
whose husband had obtained an absolute divorce and 
been awarded his child when it should reach the age of 
seven — was a terrible brand ; at least our sensitive hero- 
ine felt that such was the case. 

She was punished for a crime of which she was not 
guilty — afraid to meet anyone with whom she formerly 
worked;. yet strange contradiction of a mother’s heart, 
as much as the father of her child had wronged her, 
she still loved him, and her heart ached for some news 
of the man who had so cruelly deserted her and ruined 
her reputation. 

She wrote a note to Lizzie North and sent it to Jones 
Bros.’, and the following evening when she returned 
from the store her friend called on her. 


282 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


Lizzie was delighted to see Margaret. She praised 
the baby ; but, with her usual tact, did not speak of 
Albert Williams, but went on rattling off the gossip of 
the store in her most lively fashion. 

“ I must tell you all the news,” she said. “ Ada Ben- 
net has married a drummer by the name of Walton, 
who is much too good for her ; and as for her chum, 
^Maud Harris, she is what I call lucky. She is engaged 
to be married to a druggist on Sixth Avenue who owns 
his own store.” 

“ She is fortunate,” exclaimed Margaret, with a sigh. 

“ You may well say so, for both these girls are so sel- 
fish they care for no one but themselves, and they have 
a great deal better luck than they deserve. You ought 
to see the handsome pair of solitaire diamond earrings 
Maud’s intended gave her. I hear she is going to have 
a stylish church wedding.” 

“ How is Madame Effray ? ” 

“Ah, poor madam ! She is in love with James Jones, 
and he does not reciprocate her passion, I am afraid ; 
the poor little Frenchwoman has eyes for no one else, 
and anyone can read the sorrow in them. James Jones 
is spreeing it fearfully, so I do not wonder that madam 
feels so bad. Gerald Flavin met him the other even- 
ing with McCann, who was leading him home. He was 
so intoxicated that he could scarcely walk. Harry Lacy 
gets him downtown, fills him with champagne, and 
shoves all the bargains, as he calls them, on him that 
he can. Flavin says that he will swamp the house yet.” 

“ I am sorry to hear that Mr. James has fallen into 
such bad habits. I always liked him better than his 
brother David.” 


BEHIND THE COUNTER. 


283 


“ Yes ; he is far more agreeable in his manners. Ger- 
ald likes him the best, though the boss did raise his 
salary a few weeks ago.” 

“ Well, I am surprised ! ” exclaimed Margaret. 

‘‘ You may well be, but my friend had an offer from 
another house, which I am sorry he did not accept, be- 
cause they are working him to death at the store. Y"ou 
know, we expect to be married in the spring ? ” , 

“ O Lizzie, I am so glad ! ” 

“ But tell me, dear, about your own troubles,” said 
Lizzie, slipping an arm around her friend’s waist. 

Margaret told Lizzie her sad story of the Chicago 
divorce. Lizzie was indignant. She now understood 
why Albert Williams had dared to marry the diamond 
lady. 

Gerald Flavin had told her of Margaret’s divorce. 

But she could never understand how Albert Williams 
had obtained an absolute divorce from her friend ; but 
now she comprehended how he had contrived to get his 
marriage annulled. 

“ Albert Williams is not a happy man, and I hear that, 
like his uncles, he has become a heavy drinker. His 
wife seldom comes to the store, and I guess she knows 
that her husband does not care much about her.” 

Margaret suddenly burst into tears. She could not 
stand the fact of her husband — the man she loved so 
devotedly in spite of his villainy toward her — being the 
husband of another woman. 

“ O Lizzie ! it kills me to think that Albert deems 
me the vile woman Harry Lacy has sworn I am. The 
night that man called on me in Chicago and insulted me 
by declaring his love for me I ordered him out of the 


284 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

house ; but he had a detective with him who swore he 
saw Harry Lacy enter my residence, and Heaven alone 
knows the vile falsehoods which Lacy swore to in order 
to have his revenge on me.” 

“ I dare say, my dear,” said Lizzie, kissing her friend. 
“ But do not fret ; your husband will be punished for 
his disgraceful conduct to you, if he is not suffering al- 
ready. I imagine the diamond lady is excessively jeal- 
ous, and leads him a wretched life. 

“ Well, I must go, dear, or my mother will be worried. 
We live in Jersey City now. An old uncle of mine left 
mother a nice house, in which we reside. Mother sent 
her love to you, and she wants you to bring your baby 
and spend next Sunday with us.” 

Margaret kissed her friend good-by and promised to 
go to Jersey City the following Sunday. She saw Lizzie 
depart with a heavy heart, as the news she had heard 
of the father of her child made her have a presentiment 
of coming evil of which she tried in vain to divest 
herself. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


THE YOUNG MOTHER’S TRIAL. 

Mai(garet’s beautiful baby grew more interesting 
day by day, and the boy became, if possible, dearer to 
his mother’s heart. 

She had been in Moore & Joslin’s employ nearly a 
month, and was beginning to be reconciled to her life 
in a measure, when she was compelled to endure one of 
the greatest sorrows of a woman’s life. 

It was one of the busiest Mondays in December, and 
Margaret did not like to be late ; but she lingered until 
the last moment, holding her baby in her lap, as he 
looked feverish. 

Ann told her not to be uneasy, as she thought it was 
the child’s teeth which were bothering him. Kissing 
her little one, Margaret reluctantly laid him in Ann’s 
arms. 

That honest woman promised to send Lucy to the 
store if the baby became more feverish. 

All that morning Margaret waited on customers with 
an aching heart, longing for a glimpse of her boy’s face. 

The beautiful saleslady had just got rid of two 
ladies, who had made her take down box after box of 
underwear to show them goods which they did not pur- 
chase ; and she had to spend nearly twenty minutes re- 
placing the different articles. 

28s 


286 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


When it came her turn to go to lunch her head ached 
so badly that she felt it would be impossible to remain 
behind the counter that afternoon ; therefore she asked and 
obtained leave to go home for the remainder of the day. 

The floor walker told her to return the following 
morning if she were able to stand up, as they were short 
of hands, for several of the other salesladies were on 
/the sick list. 

Margaret put on her wrap and bonnet and hastened 
to Allen Street with an anxious heart. 

She let herself in with her latchkey, and not seeing 
either Ann or Lucy in the kitchen at the back of the 
house, she rushed upstairs. 

Ann was sitting in the rocking chair holding the child, 
which she was rocking gently. 

The baby was restless, and uttered feeble moans, as if 
he were in pain. 

‘‘ Oh, I am so glad you have come,” said Ann. “ I 
have just sent Lucy for the doctor. I told her to stop 
at the store and tell you to come home before she 
returned.” 

“ Ann, what do you think is the matter with my 
child ?” 

“Sure, ma^am, I don’t know. It maybe his teeth ; 
some children get them mighty hard.” 

Margaret threw off her street garments, put on a 
wrapper, and took the child from Ann. She had the 
poor little sufferer in her arms when the physician 
arrived. 

The kind old doctor examined the baby carefully, and 
soon saw by the child’s flushed face and swollen throat 
that it had scarlet fever. 


THE YOUNG MOTHER’S TRIAL. 


287 


“ Madam, how old is your baby? ” 

“ He is nearly six months old,” replied Margaret. 

“ Please tell me if the child has had any severe illness 
since his birth ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. He has always been a very delicate child, 
doctor — what do you think ails him ? ” 

“ Scarlet fever,” answered the physician. 

“ Oh, doctor ! ” cried the unhappy young mother as 
her eyes filled with tears and a dreadful presentiment of 
evil came over her, 

“ Yes, madam, he has every symptom of the disease, 
and I’ll do what I can to save him — while there is life 
there is hope, you know.” 

Leaving a prescription with Margaret, the doctor 
took his leave, saying he would call again in the evening. 

As Lucy had never had the scarlet fever, Margaret 
sent her home, as she did not wish to expose her to the 
contagion. 

Margaret then wrote to Messrs. Moore & Joslin that, 
owing to her child’s illness, she was obliged to be absent 
from the store. 

Margaret sat up night and day with her boy — her one 
priceless treasure — endeavoring to soothe and comfort 
him by every means in her power ; but, alas ! it was in 
vain ; the beautiful infant on the seventh day lay dying 
on its mother’s lap. 

Margaret sat holding her dying boy, her heart heavy 
with unshed tears. She wiped the perspiration off her 
infant’s brow and endeavored to warm his cold feet and 
limbs ; but the angel of death had spread his wings over 
her baby, and as the sun gradually sank, so did the 
child’s feeble grasp upon life relax, and before the 


288 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


shades of night fell upon that mournful little group in 
that Allen Street chamber the child had gone to a world 
where care is unknown and peace and love reign. 

When all was over Ann took the little cold and stiff 
form from its mother’s arms and laid it on the bed. 
Margaret fell on her knees sobbing over the lifeless 
body of her darling. 

“ Oh, ma’am, don’t take on so, dear. God knows 
best. Your boy is an angel now, and he is spared going 
through this queer world.” 

“ I know all you say is true, Ann, but my baby was all 
I had to' love. I want to die, I feel so weary — so tired 
of life.” 

“ I know, dear, how you have suffered. Come, lay 
down on my bed and try to sleep, for I want to wash 
the baby before the undertaker comes.” 

“ I could not sleep, Ann. Let me help you wash and 
dress my boy for his last resting place.” 

Ann thought it best to indulge the grief-stricken 
mother. 

Margaret went to the bureau that stood in the corner 
of the room and took out the handsomest suit of cloth- 
ing belonging to her baby’s wardrobe, and with Ann’s 
assistance she arrayed the tiny waxen form for the 
grave. 

When Margaret saw her beautiful dead boy lying in 
his white casket, with his little golden head resting so 
peacefully on its satin pillow, the floodgates of her sor- 
rowing heart were opened, and she wept bitter tears 
over the dead infant. 

Ann sent a telegram to Miss North, announcing the 
child’s death, hoping that Margaret’s friend might be 


THE YOUNG MOTHER’S TRIAL. 289 

better able to comfort her in her present affliction than 
she was. 

Margaret was dearly loved by the honest woman, who 
had known her since she was a tiny tot of three sum- 
mers. 

Ann had never married, and she had but few relatives 
in New. York. Her young lady was like her own child 
to her, and she was only too glad that she could aid her 
and give her the protection of her humble home. 

That evening Lizzie North came and stayed all night 
with the forlorn mother, who now felt how hard her posi- 
tion was. 

She missed her husband’s protecting arm, his loving 
words of consolation. Their boy lay dead. He, her 
husband, was in the same city, but another woman kept 
him from her side, thought Margaret bitterly. 

That evening Gerald Flavin called on Margaret. 

She went into the plainly furnished little sitting room 
and silently gave him her hand. 

“ I am very sorry about your trouble, Mrs. Williams.” 

“ I know you sympathize with me. Come upstairs 
and look at my boy.” 

The good-hearted young Irishman stood over, the 
casket with tears in his eyes. 

“ Poor little man,” he said, “ his troubles are all 
over.” 

“ Does Albert know his boy is dead ? ” asked Margaret, 
with quivering lips. 

“ He does, and he requested me to hand you this 
envelope.” 

Margaret took the letter in her trembling hands and 
tore it open. It contained a single sheet of paper with 


290 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


the following words ; I am sorry for you,” and four 
fifty-dollar bills. 

“ Mr. Flavin, will you kindly return this money to its 
owner ? I prefer to pay my boy’s funeral expenses my- 
self,” said Margaret with dignity as she handed the 
envelope and the money to the young man. 

“ You are doing as I would wish a sister of mine to 
act under similar circumstances.” 

“I could not touch a cent of that man’s money; 
he has wronged me too bitterly. I hope, Mr. Flavin, 
that you do not believe I ever gave Albert any cause to 
procure a divorce from me ? ” 

“ I do not even imagine that you could be guilty of 
any conduct unbecoming a lady and a good, virtuous 
wife,” replied Gerald Flavin. 

“Thank you,” answered Margaret briefly. 

“Your divorce was simply an infamy, madam, and in 
my opinion it was the work of David Jones. He was 
anxious to have his nephew wed the millionaire’s 
daughter, as he coveted some of the old man’s wealth ; 
for Mr. Jones has been speculating heavily in Wall Street 
lately, and I fear he will yet plunge the house into ruin. 
The diamond lady’s father is too shrewd to allow any- 
one to touch his millions.” 

Margaret’s eyes overflowed when she thought of her 
husband. 

The young man read her thoughts, for he said : 

“Mr. Williams is far from being a happy man, and 1 
fear he will rue the day — if he has not already done so — 
that he left your side.” 

“I am glad you do me justice, for 1 never gave my 
husband any cause for his treatment of me.” 


THE YOUNG MOTHER’S TRIAL. 291 

“ I believe you, madam,” replied Gerald as he bade 
the sorrowing mother good-night. 

The next day two carriages drove up to Ann’s resi- 
dence. 

The child’s casket was placed in one carriage with 
the undertaker’s assistant. Margaret, supported by 
Ann and Lizzie North, followed in the second carriage. 

When they arrived at Greenwood, and the bell tolled 
as the carriages passed the gate, Margaret shivered, for 
the mournful sound recalled the funerals of her parents. 

Margaret stood beside the grave as shovelful after 
shovelful of earth fell on the casket containing her much 
prized and lost jewel. 

The opening was filled up at last, and the undertaker 
placed a large wreath and harp of white immortelles on 
the newly made grave. 

The wreath had been sent by Gerald Flavin, and the 
harp by the child’s father. 

Margaret buried her boy in her father’s plot in Green- 
wood ; it was the only piece of property left belonging 
to the late banker. 

Margaret turned to .Lizzie as they were about to leave 
the grave and said : 

“ Thank Heaven that my boy has been taken out of 
this wicked world.’"’ 

“ There, dear, let that thought console you,’” answered 
her companion. 

“ O Lizzie, but I will miss my little one — miss him to 
my dying day. Baby ! baby ! I cannot part from you,” 
cried Margaret, falling across his grave sobbing as if 
her heart would break. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


MADAME ROLAND DEFIES HER ENEMIES, 

During the entire journey from Tarrytown to New 
York Edward Osgood and his friend did not speak to 
Madame Roland and her companion, nor appear to 
recognize them, though they all occupied seats in the 
same car. 

Johnny was afraid that they had been followed, and 
he was glad when the train arrived in New York. 

His anxiety was somewhat diminished when he saw 
no one interfered with the old lady’s movements, as he 
expected Dr. Hamilton might have put a shrewd detec- 
tive on their track. 

When they left the train Madame Roland and Kate 
Fagan were joined by the two young men. After a 
hasty consultation with her two liberators Madame Ro- 
land decided to go at once to her cousin’s house in West 
Thirty. fourth Street, and seek his protection. 

The reporter hailed a cab and escorted the two ladies 
to it. Madame Roland shook hands with Johnny and 
thanked him for the part which he had taken in rescuing 
her from her enemies. 

Edward Osgood, promising to meet Johnny that even- 
ing at his lodging house in Bond Street, gave the driver 
the necessary directions, jumped into the cab, and drove 
off with the two ladies. 


292 


MADAME ROLAND DEFIES HER ENEMIES. 


293 


The reporter then took a ' Fourth Avenue car and 
started for the Herald office to report for duty. 

Madame Roland received a warm greeting from her 
cousin’s wife, by whom she was welcomed as one arisen 
from the dead. 

“A notice of your death appeared in the New York Her- 
ald^ and we all mourned for you,” said the warm-hearted 
woman as she heartily embraced her husband’s kinswoman. 

“I went to Tarrytown with Mrs. Graham’s remains,” 
said Madame Roland, for she did not know that the lady 
for whom she mourned as dead was alive, for both the 
young men had decided that it was more judicious not 
to undeceive the old housekeeper about Laura Graham, 
especially as they did not know the whereabouts of that 
unfortunate woman. 

“ We read the notice of Mrs. Graham’s death in several 
of the papers, but saw the funeral was private, which we 
thought was a wise precaution, as she died of a conta- 
gious disease,” said Mrs. Michel. 

Madame Roland then told her friend of the events 
that had transpired since she saw her. 

I am astonished ! ” exclaimed the physician’s wife. 
“ My husband received a letter from Mr. Richard Arling- 
ton telling him of your death. My husband was very 
much shocked, and he called upon Mr. Arlington, who 
told him that you had made up your mind very suddenly 
to accompany some New Orleans friend who was going 
abroad, and he said you had intended writing to us as 
soon as the steamer arrived.” 

“ Why, Cousin Victor might have known I would never 
have left New York for such a voyage without bidding 
him good-by,” interrupted the old lady. 


294 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER, 

“ Well, the doctor did not know what to think. He 
told me he was puzzled by Mr. Arlington’s peculiar 
manner when he called there to inquire about you.” 

“I think,” said Edw'ard Osgood, “that both John 
Blake and Richard Arlington deserve to be punished to 
the full extent of.the law for the outrageous conspiracy 
that they have planned and carried out ; also for having 
deprived this lady of her liberty. I have brought 
Madame Roland here at her own request, as her cousin, 
being a physician, can protect her much better than any- 
one else.” 

“ Many thanks, sir, for your disinterested kindness to 
our relative,” said Mrs. Michel. 

“ I will now bid you ladies good-by,” said Edward, 
rising. 

“ I can never thank you sufficiently, my friend, for 
aiding me to escape from that terrible lunatic asylum.” 

“ I would never have known that you were confined in 
Woodbine Asylum had it not been for Johnny R3^an, 
who overheard a conversation at Arlington Villa. I then 
determined you should have your freedom, as I had 
known from bitter experience what it was to be deprived 
of liberty and to suffer ill treatment at the hands of hire- 
lings,” said Edward Osgood as he shook hands with 
Madame Roland. 

“ We have to thank kind Providence, my young friend, 
for delivering us from our enemies.” 

“Yes, madam, for He alone is just and merciful. 
Pray for me often, as I must now bid you farewell. To- 
morrow I enlist in the first regiment that has received 
marching orders, for the quicker I am on the Potomac 
the better I shall like it.” 


MADAME ROLAND DEFIES HER ENEMIES. 295 

“ May I live to see you return safely and crowned 
with honors.” 

“ Thank you, madam. Good-by.” 

“ Good-by, my friend, and may Heaven bless you,” 
replied the old lady, again shaking hands with her 
deliverer. 

Edward Osgood bade Mrs. Michel adieu and entered 
the carriage, where Kate sat awaiting his return. 

Is Madame Roland going to remain with Mrs. 
Michel ? ” asked Kate eagerly. 

“ Yes,, with the doctor and Mrs. Michel for the pres- 
ent,” replied the young man. 

“ You may tell the driver to set me down at my aunt’s, 
and please inform Mr. Ryan that I shall remain in the 
city until Saturday,” said Kate, with a smile. 

“ I shall do so with pleasure,” answered Edward. 

So soon as Kate reached her aunt’s residence he 
bade the young girl adieu, and paid and dismissed the 
cabman. 

Edward then walked downtown. As he turned the 
corner of Bond Street and Broadway he saw a man fol- 
lowing him, and he let the fellow shadow his footsteps 
until he reached his destination, for he imagined that he 
might possibly be mistaken. 

However, when at length Edward reached Johnny’s 
abode, and he was about to enter the house as the door 
opened in response to his ring, he saw the man pass the 
house, look up at the number, and then turn on his heel 
and walk toward Broadway. 

An hour later Johnny came home, and Edward told 
him of the circumstance. 

“ I thought so ! ” Johnny exclaimed ; “ we have had a 


296 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

detective on our track ever since we left Tarrytown. It 
is that confounded Crawford. I am willing to bet a hat 
on it, as I thought I saw him on the train to-day.” 

“ Who is Crawford ? ” 

“ One of the keenest detectives in New York. He is a 
man without an atom of conscience, and if he is upon 
your track you can give yourself up for lost.” 

“ But I have not committed any crime ! ” exclaimed 
Osgood. 

Yet you have just served out a term in Sing Sing for 
an offense of which you were not guilty,” replied the 
reporter, rising and pacing up and down the room with 
nervous steps. 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Edward. 

“ That your enemies are after you, and are even now 
concocting a plan to entangle you once more in the 
meshes of the law and send you back to Sing Sing. I 
see it all, my friend. Come, let us get our supper and 
retire, and to-morrow I will go with you and see you 
enlist as one of Uncle Sam’s boys ; the sooner you leave 
this town the better.” 

“I think you are right, Johnny. I intended to leave 
to-morrow, for I am anxious to serve my country, though 
I should have liked to discover my sister’s whereabouts, 
also to find some trace of Mrs. Graham.” 

“ So would I, but we have no time to attend to such 
matters now. I am ordered to the front, and leave to- 
morrow evening for. Washington, as one of our special 
correspondents has been wounded, and is in the hos- 
pital ; so when old Murphy has mapped out my work, I 
go ; therefore I want to see you settled before I leave 
the city.” 


MADAME ROLAND DEFIES HER ENEMIES. 297 

“ All right, my dear boy. I will oblige you by enlist- 
ing to-morrow morning,” said Edward, smiling. 

While these two young men were laying their plans 
for the future Madame Roland was undergoing a singu- 
lar experience. 

Dr. Michel had returned from visiting his patients, 
and he was overjoyed to see his aged relative, for whom 
he had mourned as an inhabitant of the other world. 
He was justly indignant when she had recounted to him 
her terrible trial. 

The doctor and his family were seated in the parlor 
after dinner when their door bell was violently rung. 
The waiter opened the door and four gentlemen en- 
tered, and without giving their names walked into the 
parlor. 

Crawford the detective and Dr. Hamilton entered the 
room first. 

As the latter was slightly acquainted with Dr. Michel, 
he walked toward him, saying : 

“You will pardon this intrusion, doctor, but I came to 
call on one of my patients.” 

Dr. Michel arose and confronted him. 

“You have been misinformed, doctor ; I am not in the 
habit of taking any physician’s cases from him — it is so 
very unprofessional.” 

“ It is, doctor, and as Madame Roland is here, I find 
you have been guilty of this breach of professional 
etiquette.” 

“ I was not aware that Madame Roland was ill,” said 
Dr. Michel calmly. 

“ Not physically ill, but mentally. She escaped from 
my asylum and I have come to take her back.” 


1 


298 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“Will you inform me by whose authority you are thus 
empowered to act in this matter ? ” asked Dr. Michel. 

“ By mine,” answered Richard Arlington, stepping 
forward. 

“ May I ask who gave you the right to send this lady 
to a lunatic asylum ?” 

“ I took the right. I might say that it was a duty I 
owed to society to provide a safe retreat for my foster 
mother.” 

Madame Roland sat in an armchair trembling in every 
limb, but when the man she had nursed with the ten- 
derest care during his childhood pursued her with deter- 
mined malice, and would, if he dared, again consign her 
to a fate a thousand times worse than death, her indig- 
nation overcame her judgment. 

She arose and looked the ingrate in the face. 

“ Richard Arlington, how dare you come here and 
declare that I am mad when you know that, owing to 
kind Providence, I am as .sane as you are ? ” 

“ I know you are insane, and I feel it is my duty to 
send you back to Woodbine Asylum.” 

“ I see it is of no use to appeal to a man who has lost 
every atom of honor he ever possessed. You are a 
cruel, merciless man, and I leave you to the justice of 
Heaven,” said the old lady, bursting into tears as Mrs. 
Michel led her back to the armchair. 

“ Dr. Hamilton, perhaps you are not aware that 
Madame Roland is my first cousin ? And as her nearest 
living relative, I protest against this outrage. She shall 
not go back to Woodbine Asylum.” 

“ I say she shall ! ” cried Richard Arlington. 

“ No, sir. According to the law of the land in which 


MADAME ROLAND DEFIES HER ENEMIES. 


299 


we live no one has a right to send Madame Roland there 
but myself/’ said Dr. Michel firmly. 

John Blake, who had kept in the background, left the 
room. He knew their game was up. 

“ What do you mean ? ” demanded Richard Arlington. 

“ That I am Madame Roland’s nearest living relative, 
and she cannot legally be confined as a lunalic without 
my consent,” answered Dr. Michel. 

“ You are right, doctor,” said Dr. Hamilton, bowing 
and walking out of the room, followed by Richard 
Arlington, who was mentally cursing the good old lady, 
who, being protected by her relatives, could now defy 
him. 

He knew that she had escaped from his clutches, and 
he made up his mind that his best policy was to pay her 
legacy, and avoid, if possible, any litigation. 

Blake whispered to him as they left the house : 

“ We must get Crawford to fix Osgood, or we will both 
be arrested for forgery.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” snapped Richard Arlington. 

“ That unless we put Osgood out of the way again 
we shall soon be behind prison bars. Madame Roland 
alone cannot harm us, but her evidence, combined with 
my former clerk’s, would ruin us.” 

They turned around and bade Dr. Hamilton, who was 
getting into his carriage before Dr. Michel’s door, a 
freezing good-night. 

Blake laid his hand on the detective’s arm. 

“ Call at my office to-morrow at ten o’clock ; I have 
some work for you to do for which I shall pay you liber- 
ally.” 

“ All right, sir. I shall be there — good-night ! ” an- 


300 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


swered Crawford as he walked down Thirty-fourth 
Street. 

“ Come home with me, Blake, and let us talk this mat- 
ter over,” said Arlington as they turned the corner of 
Fifth Avenue. 

“ I will ; for we must hit on some plan to retain the 
fortune that we now hold,” replied the wily lawyer. 






CHAPTER XXXVI. 


THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 

When John Blake realized that Madame Roland had 
a relative who was one of the most noted physicians in 
the great metropolis to protect her he felt that the for- 
tune for which he had schemed and sinned was in great 
danger of being lost, and he was very uneasy as to 
what the future might develop. 

Richard Arlington and the crafty lawyer sat up half 
the night plotting against the legal heirs of the late 
millionaire cotton merchant. 

The shrewd detective kept his appointment with Mr. 
Blake promptly the next morning. 

When Crawford was shown into the attorney's private 
office the detective was surprised to see the expression 
of intense anxiety on that legal gentleman’s usually im- 
mobile face. 

“ Good-morning, Crawford ! Take a seat.” 

“ I have come for your orders, sir, and I have not a 
minute to lose, unless I wish to be thrown off Osgood’s 
track.” 

“ Where is that young man at present ? ” asked Blake. 

I saw him enter a recruiting office at nine o’clock 
this morning, and I suppose he has enlisted.” 

“ I am glad to hear he has so mjuch common sense 
left,” remarked the lawyer. 

301 


302 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER, ^ 

“ The young man means to make a business of soldier- 
ing, for he has gone into the regular army. I saw him 
talking to the recruiting sergeant of the Third Infantry, 
U, S. A., and I heard the officer say : ‘ You are a queer 
fellow ! You must be in a hurry to get shot. Well, I 
will see that you have your wish — I will send you off to- 
night with a party of the boys who are going to fill up 
the regiment, which was badly cut to pieces at the last 
battle.’ ” 

“ Well, I hope he leaves the city for good and all, 
Crawford ; you owe me a debt of gratitude for getting 
you out of that bank robbery scrape which occurred on 
the Street while you were on the regular police force, 
and now I want you to do me a favor and ask no ques- 
tions.” 

‘‘ I will do you any service that lies in my power, sir,” 
answered the detective, who knew that he was under 
obligations to John Blake. 

“ Well, when the company into which Osgood enlists 
leaves New York I want you to disguise yourself and 
go a portion of the way with them — say as far as Phila- 
delphia ; see if you can find a jail bird among the men 
who will be in that company. You know they are get- 
ting men from wherever they can obtain them, and I am 
told many convicts are in the army.” 

“ Suppose I might find such a man, sir ? ” 

“ Make arrangements to correspond with him — tell 
him to keep his eye on Edward Osgood, and if he is 
shot to communicate with you. The day that man can 
send you word that Osgood is dead, and can prove the 
assertion, he will receive five one-hundred-dollar bills in 
United States currency.” 


THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 


303 


“You must want that young man out of your way, 
Mr. Blake, but that is your business and not mine. 
Please give me a check for a hundred. That is what I 
have earned on this case, and I will attend to the little 
matter you have named out of my friendly regard for 
you.” 

“ Thank you, Crawford. You are a good, reliable 
fellow,” as he made out a check payable to the detec- 
tive’s order. 

“ By the way, have you heard anything of that woman 
I asked you to hunt up ? ” asked John Blake, handing 
the detective his check. 

“ No, but the young Dutchman who keeps the corner 
grocery near her former residence has promised to find 
out where she lives now. I said I would give him five 
dollars if he obtained her address for me.” 

“ Thank you. I should like to know where Mrs. 
Graham is to be found in case I hear of some news of 
her husband,” said Blake with a hypocritical accent to 
his skillfully modulated voice, which, however, did not 
deceive the keen hunter of criminals. 

When Crawford left the lawyer’s office that gentle- 
man’s mind was comparatively easy regarding the future, 
for, as he thought : 

“ If Osgood should be shot we shall not have a great 
deal of trouble. Of course we’ll have to pay Madame 
Roland’s legacy in order to prevent Dr. Michel suing 
us for the amount.” 

While these villains were plotting to retain the late 
Mr. Arlington’s millions, Mrs. Graham was suffering for 
the want of the necessities of life — the wolf was at her 
door. 


304 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

She and her child were starving in one of New York’s 
great tenement houses. 

Laura Graham, since she had been discharged by the 
Bowery tailor, had done work for many different stores, 
but the pay was mere starvation wages, and the poor 
woman was worn out with hard work and mental 
trouble. 

Her appearance had changed considerably since she 
commenced her hard fight with poverty. 

Few would have recognized the brilliant Southern 
beauty in the miserably faded, prematurely old woman. 

Mrs. Graham’s manner was still as dignified and re- 
fined as when she was Henry Graham’s petted wife, but 
she was far shrewder and more energetic. Stern neces- 
sity had taught her what it was to depend on herself. 

Her little son had been ill with gastric fever, and the 
poor mother was almost heartbroken because she could 
not procure proper nourishment for him. 

“ Ah ! ” she thought bitterly as she sat sewing on a 
coarse flannel army uniform, “the doctor has ordered a 
change of air for my boy, and said I should send him to 
the country if I wished him to recover. I can hardly 
earn enough to give him bread and milk. It is easy for 
physicians to prescribe, but it is hard for the poor to 
obey their orders.” 

Little Harry’s sleep was very restless. Perhaps the 
child felt the fetid influence of the heavy atmosphere 
around him, reeking with all sorts of bad odors, for he 
had a sensitive nature. 

“ Mamma ! ” he said, awaking and holding out his 
emaciated arms to his mother to take him. 

The poor mother flung aside her work, and going 


THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 


305 


to the cot on which the child lay, took him on her 
lap. 

“What is it, my darling ?” she said, kissing his pale 
cheeks. 

“Oh, mamma, I had such a pretty dream. I thought 
I saw papa come out of the sky with his hands full of 
flowers, and, mamma, he said if I were a good boy he 
would ask God to give me a pair of white wings so I 
could fly to him.” 

“ Don’t talk so, baby. You will break my heart,” 
cried his unhappy mother, pressing her child convulsively 
to her bosom, and raining down on his face the bitter 
tears she could not restrain. 

“ Don’t cry, mamma. I do not want to be an angel if 
I will have to fly away from you,” said little Harry as 
he threw his arms around his mother’s neck and kissed 
her. 






CHAPTER XXXVII. 


ON THE POTOMAC. 

Then Harry tried to wipe away the tears from his 
mother’s tired eyes. 

“ My baby, I sometimes wish we were both in heaven,” 
sighed Laura Graham wearily. 

“ Do people eat in heaven, mamma ? ” 

“ No, my darling. I do not think so.” 

‘‘ I wish we could go up there, then, for we wouldn’t 
be hungry any more,” said the precocious child. 

“ Do you feel hungry now, Harry? ” 

“ Yes, mamma ; don’t you ? ” 

“ I have not even a crust of bread to give you, my dar- 
ling ! ” cried the mother excitedly. “Merciful Heaven ! 
do not let my boy starve ! Send us succor from some- 
where ! ” prayed Laura Graham fervently as she clasped 
the child still closer to her heart. 

“ Don’t cry, mamma. Harry will be a good boy, and 
not be hungry any more.” 

Laura Graham sat silently endeavoring to think how 
she could obtain food for her famished child. 

“I haven’t an article of clothing left that any pawn- 
broker would give me twenty-five cents for,” she 
thought. “ There’s only my wedding ring left. Oh, has 
it come to this, that I have to part with the last token of 
my dear husband’s love? My child will die if I do not 

306 . 


ON THE POTOMAC. 307 

pledge it. I may get enough on it to get him a comfort- 
able meal, and then, if I cannot support him, I must take 
him to an orphan asylum — it will be better for him, but 
it will break my heart to part with him. Let me put you 
back in your cot, dear, and cover yourself up, my pet. 
I am going to the store to buy something for your 
supper.” 

“Don’t stay long, mamma,” said the little boy as his 
mother smoothed his pillow and covered him. 

“ No, darling, I will conie back very soon,” said Mrs. 
Graham. “ I will ask Mrs. McCarthy to come in and sit 
by your bed until my return.” 

“ Oh, mamma, ask Pete. I like him — he’s a nice boy ; 
he always tells the stories about the Indians, and then 
he tells me of the battles we are fighting. Pete is a 
smart boy, even if he is poor,” said Harry, with an in- 
tensely wise look on his little, intelligent face. 

“You are right, my son. Pete is a clever lad. He 
may be a great man some of these days, for he studies 
hard, and he always has a kind word to say to every- 
one.” 

“ He brings me red, rosy apples and oranges when he 
sells papers for his big brother. Mamma, I wish he 
would bring me one now.” 

A knock was heard at Mrs. Graham’s door, which she 
opened to admit the subject of their remarks. 

“ Hallo, Pete ! ” cried Harry, sitting up in bed. 

“ Yes, it is myself. I have brought you an apple,, two 
oranges, and a custard pie,” said the great manly boy 
of twelve summers as he gave them to the little invalid. 

Little Harry clapped his hands and asked his mother 
for a plate and knife, which Mrs. Graham gave him. 


3o8 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

“ Pete, please stay with Harry until I return. I shall 
not be away long. I am only going around the corner,” 
said Mrs. Graham, putting on her hat and shawl. 

I will sit by the little one, ma’am, until you come 
back.” 

“ Thank you, Pete,” said Mrs. Graham as she left the 
room. 

Edward Osgood had, as the detective surmised, en- 
listed into the United States Army, and left with a com- 
pany of the Third Infantry that evening en route to 
Washington. 

As Edward had at one time been a member of the 
famous New York Seventh Regiment, he was well posted 
regarding military tactics, and understood the drill thor- 
oughly, so much so that after he had enlisted Lieuten- 
ant Tracy, who had charge of the company, was de- 
lighted with Edward’s soldierly appearance and his 
knowledge of the duties of military life, and prophesied 
that the new recruit had a brilliant career before him. 

Johnny Ryan, having received his instructions from 
his editor-in-chief, took the same train as the infantry 
company. 

The clever reporter became acquainted with Lieuten- 
ant Tracy, and warmly praised his friend to that young 
officer, but at the same time, according to his accus- 
tomed habit, took observations of his fellow-passengers. 

Crawford had kept his promise to the lawyer, and 
disguised himself by putting on a red wig and a pair of 
blue spectacles. He also took the same train on which 
the company of soldiers had departed. 

The detective wore a large gray coat which enveloped 


ON THE POTOMAC. 


309 


his entire figure, and his general make-up would have 
misled the majority of his acquaintances. 

The reporter saw him when he entered the car at Jersey 
City, and to Johnny there was something familiar about 
the man’s appearance in spite of Crawford’s dis- 
guise, which puzzled the Herald correspondent consid- 
erably. 

When the train stopped at Newark the man in the 
gray coat changed his seat and mingled with the boys 
in blue. He offered cigars to a half a dozen men in the 
company. 

The reporter kept his eye upon this generous indi- 
vidual, though he still was conversing with Lieutenant 
Tracy on various war topics. 

He observed that the gray-coated man suddenly 
addressed one of the soldiers, and Johnny asked the 
officer who that villainous-looking fellow was who was 
talking to that queer-looking man on the fourth seat 
from them. 

“ Oh, you mean Hicks. We sent him to New York 
with our recruiting sergeant to hunt up men, as he al- 
ways seems to get recruits, but he is a pretty hard lot. 
I heard that he served a term in Sing Sing for man- 
slaughter in the third degree. He is a perfect dare- 
devil — a splendid fighter. He would be a captain if he 
were not continually disobeying orders and getting in- 
toxicated so often. I respect him on the battlefield, not 
off of it. He is really a study. The man appears to 
have a double nature. I have seen him do some of the 
greatest acts of bravery on the field, and after the con- 
test was finished I have had to send him to the guard- 
house for robbing his dead comrades.” 


310 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Your account of the fellow interests me, lieutenant. 
I shall try to make his acquaintance before we reach 
Washington, for I may be able to learn something about 
a new type of character,” replied the reporter. 

Johnny had never taken his eyes off of Crawford from 
the time the train started, and his patient observation 
was at length rewarded. 

A shower of cinders blew into the car window, which 
was partially open, near the detective, and though pro- 
tected by his spectacles, one of the cinders flew in his 
left eye. 

Crawford, feeling very uncomfortable, took off his 
glasses and endeavored to remove the irritating cinder 
by applying the end of his handkerchief to his eye, 
which he cleansed and then replaced his spectacles. 

The moment the detective removed his glasses 
Johnny recognized him, and the young man became 
very anxious, as he conjectured that Crawford was fol- 
lowing Osgood for some purpose. 

When the train stopped at the next station Johnny 
asked Lieutenant Tracy to have a drink with him at the 
depot restaurant. 

The officer assented and they both got out. 

Johnny, before leaving the place, bought a small bot- 
tle of whisky, which he put into his pocket before he 
returned to the train. 

When they arrived at Philadelphia the detective shook 
hands with Hicks and left the cars. 

Johnny immediately took his vacant seat, and before 
they reached Baltimore he had made considerable prog- 
ress in his acquaintance with the infantryman. 

The reporter filled Hicks’ canteen with whisky, and 


ON THE POTOMAC. 


311 

before they reached Washington the man’s tongue was 
loosened. 

“ I was not aware you were acquainted with Mr. 
Crawford,” said Johnny by way of a feeler. 

“ I never saw the man until to-day, but he seems to 
know more about me than I do about myself. He is 
familiar with all my affairs before I entered the service. 
By Jove, I never was so surprised in my life. He is a 
queer customer.” 

“ He makes it his business to ferret out the secrets of 
the lives of people. He is a detective.” 

“ Oh, I thought he was something of the kind, but 
he asked me to do him a favor. What do you think it 
was ? ” 

“ Probably to shoot some man who stands in the way 
of some of his friends,” said Johnny carelessly. 

“ You are good at guessing, my young friend ; he 
didn’t ask me to shoot anyone — only to let him know 
when a man that we enlisted this morning was shot.” 

‘‘ For which information I dare say he offered to pay 
you handsomely,” remarked the reporter. 

“ That would be telling. I’m not giving my affairs 
away,” answered Hicks in a surly, half-intoxicated 
tone. 

“ Certainly not. Excuse me, I see you are sleepy,” 
said Johnny as he saw the soldier’s eyelids closing in 
slumber. 

Johnny then walked to the lower end of the car, where 
he found Osgood occupying a seat alone and half 
asleep. 

The reporter touched him on the shoulder aud sat 
down beside him. 


312 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Wake up, Ned. I wish to talk to you, and I have 
not much time to do it, for as soon as we arrive at Wash- 
ington I must get a special report and telegraph to the 
office ; theii for a few hours’ sleep and start on my jour- 
ney to the front.” 

“ Well, what is it, Johnny ? ” 

“ I may not see you for weeks, as I wish to join General 
MacClellan’s staff, or get as near to it as possible, for 
we are going to have some hard fighting soon, if I am 
not mistaken.” 

“ The harder it is the better I shall like it,” replied 
Osgood, now fully awake. 

“ Oh, you’ll get your head blown off soon enough, but 
I want you to. get shot correctly if such is your destiny,” 
said the reporter. 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” 

“ That there is a man in your company whom I believe 
has been bribed to put you out of the way.” 

“Why, Johnny, you are worse than an old woman. 
You imagine all sorts of calamities.” 

“You are mistaken. We newspaper men see and^ 
hear things which the rest of the world do not notice. 
Crawford the detective journeyed with us as far as 
Philadelphia; he had a very peculiar conversation with 
a soldier in your company by the name of Hicks. I 
succeeded in getting it all out of the fellow by the aid 
of some whisky. Your enemies are on your track, and I 
warn you as a friend not to have anything whatever to 
do with Hicks, and if possible have him in front of you 
during a battle.” 

“You do not wish me to be shot in the back, 
Johnny ? ” 


ON THE POTOMAC. 313 

“ No, my friend. I would rather see you shot in the 
open field by a Confederate bullet.” 

Osgood grasped the hand of the young reporter 
warmly. He felt that Johnny was a real friend, and he 
prized him accordingly. 

“ Thank you, Johnny. I will take your advice.” 

When they arrived at Washington the two friends 
parted with mutual regret and did not meet again for 
some months. 

About the middle of September General MacClellan 
formed his forces for a general conflict. At the battle 
of Antietam Edward Osgood distinguished himself by 
saving the life of Major Elliott when that brave officer’s 
horse was shot under him. 

Edward dragged his commanding officer off the horse 
before the noble animal fell, and by so doing received a 
severe wound in his left shoulder. 

Major Elliott recognized that Osgood had risked his 
life for him, and had his preserver removed from the 
field on a stretcher and sent to a farmhouse about a mile 
from the scene of the conflict where several wounded 
officers had been carried already. 

Edward was weak from loss of blood, and when 
Dr. Prescott had probed and dressed his wound he 
fainted, and for days lay hovering between life and death. 
On the third day after the battle he was delirious, and 
the surgeon had very little hope of saving the gallant 
soldier’s life. 

“Do you think he will recover?” asked Major Elliott 
anxiously as he stood by the bedside of the man who had 
risked his life for him. 

Dr. Prescott carefully examined his patient and mixed 


314 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


some medicine in a glass, which he forced Edward to 
swallow in spite of his resistance. 

“I am afraid, major, the man’s life is a question of a 
few hours. If the delirium leaves him and the opiate 
which I have just given him has the desired effect he 
may rally — it is his last chance.” 

“ I hope the brave fellow will recover — he saved my 
life, doctor, and I should hate to see him die. I will 
return after the drill is over and see how he is.” 

And the major, bowing to the surgeon, took his leave. 

At five o’clock the major again rode up to the farm- 
house to inquire for the wounded man. Dr. Prescott 
saw him and went out to meet him. 

“ I am happy to inform you that our patient is sleep- 
ing naturally, and I believe he will pull through. If he 
wakes conscious he will recover.” 

“ I am very glad to hear it. Do all you can for him, 
doctor, and get him anything which money will pro- 
cure,” said the major, handing two ten-dollar bills to the 
surgeon. 

“ I shall do all I can for him on your account, major. 
He shall have every comfort I can obtain for him,” said 
Dr. Prescott. 

“ Thank you, my friend. I shall not be able to ride 
over to-morrow myself, as I have a great many duties to 
attend to, but I will send my orderly to hear your report 
of the man’s progress.” 

The major mounted his horse, saluted his friend, and 
rode back to camp. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 

The Herald special correspondent was at Antietam 
with General MacClellan, and he went wherever he could 
get an item of news. 

He distinguished himself as one of the best war corre- 
spondents on that excellent journal, so much so that the 
chief editor remarked that if Ryan did not get his head 
blown off he would rank second to no man on the staff. 

A few days after the battle Johnny happened to run 
across Lieutenant Tracy, who informed him that his 
friend had been severely wounded. 

The young man being directed to where Osgood was, 
immediately turned his horse’s head toward the farm- 
house in which the wounded man lay. 

The reporter, having obtained the doctor’s permission 
to visit his patient, went into a small room on the ground 
floor, where he found his friend lying very pale and^ 
quiet on his cot. 

Osgood’s expressive eyes sparkled when he saw his 
friend enter the room. 

Johnny took the soldier’s hand, and looked at him 
for a moment through tears which did not disgrace his 
manhood. 

“ I am sorry to find you here, Ned,” said the reporter 
huskily. 

315 


3i6 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

“ Well, it is the fortune of war, my friend.” 

“ Lieutenant Tracy spoke in the highest terms of 
your bravery, and he says you saved Major Elliott’s 
life.” 

“I tried to do so, as I saw if he fell under .his 
horse some of the enemy’s sharpshooters would aim 
at him.” 

“ You received the shots intended for him, then ? ” 

“ Yes, I suppose so. Are you going to remain with 
the Army of the Potomac ? ” 

“ Yes, until I receive orders to go elsewhere. I am 
stationed here as the Herald's special correspondent.” 

“ And how do you like army life? ” 

“ I enjoy it, and if I were not engaged as I am at pres- 
ent I would enlist, but I feel I am serving my country 
far better in my present capacity. I received a splendid 
letter from our editor-in-chief on my report of the battle 
of Antietam — and I find that nearly every one of our 
papers is taking my view of the situation. General Mac- 
Clellan made a mistake by not attacking the enemy the 
second day after the last fight.” 

“ Oh, Little Mac knows what he is about — if the people 
at Washington would only give him all the troops he 
, needs he would soon astonish the country and end the 
war.” 

“ I see you are like all the rest of the boys, in love with 
your general,” said Johnny, smiling. 

The two friends conversed together about an hour, 
when Johnny arose and said : 

“ I must be off or the doctor will not allow me to visit 
you again, and I have to ride about six miles from here 
to send off my mail, so good-by, old fellow — take care 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


317 

of yourself and get well — I want to see you a general 
before the war ends.” 

The two young men parted with many expressions of 
strong friendship on both sides, and Johnny left the 
room feeling very anxious about his disabled friend. 
He met Dr. Prescott in the hall and inquired about his 
friend ; as he was bidding the surgeon good-by, Cor- 
poral Hicks entered the hall and saluted Dr. Prescott. 

Major Elliott commands me to see Private Osgood 
and hand him this letter.” 

“Very well, you can go in ; his room is the small one 
at the end of this hall, but do not talk much to him.” 

The corporal saluted and passed down the hall with- 
out recognizing the reporter. 

The latter took leave of Dr. Prescott, and moved by 
. some uncontrollable impulse, hurried out of the farm- 
house. 

The shades of night were rapidly enveloping the sur- 
rounding country, and the reporter in place of mount- 
ing his horse crept stealthily around the house until he 
reached the window of Osgood’s bedroom. 

The lamp had just been lit and placed on the table 
near the soldier’s bedside. He was propped up by pil- 
lows, reading the major’s letter. 

As the room was on the ground floor, the reporter 
could look through the window and see the slightest 
movement of its occupants. 

Johnny kept his figure out of sight by kneeling on the 
ground. His eyes were on a level with the window-pane. 

The shade had been pulled down to within three inches 
of the bottom, so the young man had sufficient space left 
to see into the apartment without being seen. 


3i8 romance of a dry goods drummer. 

While Osgood was busy reading the letter which Cor- 
poral Hicks had brought him, the latter was apparently 
arranging the various articles on the table. 

The reporter’s keen eyes watched every movement of 
the two people in the chamber. He was fascinated as he 
gazed, being prompted by a foreboding that some strange 
event was about to happen. 

Johnny saw Corporal Hicks slip a small white paper 
from his pocket while he fussed with the articles on the 
table ; then Ryan saw him hold his closed hand over a 
pitcher which stood on the table. 

Osgood read his letter and then appeared to talk to 
the corporal for a few minutes. 

Johnny saw Hicks arrange his friend's pillows and 
pour him out a glass of what appeared to be at the dis- 
tance lemonade. 

Just as the corporal held the tumbler to Osgood’s lips 
Johnny threw up the window and jumped into the room. 
He snatched the glass from the hand of Hicks and 
spilled the liquid it contained. 

“ Do you want to die like a dog ? ” asked the reporter, 
excitedly addressing the sick man. 

“ What do you mean ? ” demanded Osgood, looking at 
Johnny as if he thought the latter had gone mad. 

“ I saw that man put a powder in that pitcher ! ” 
answered Johnny. 

‘‘You lie!” cried Hicks, drawing a revolver, but 
Johnny was too quick for him. He dodged and knocked 
the corporal’s arm upward so the bullet lodged in the 
wall, carrying away a piece of plaster. 

Hearing the discharge of firearms, Dr. Prescott and 
two of the guards in the hall rushed into the room. 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


319 


“ What means this disturbance ? ” asked the surgeon. 

“ That man accused me of attempting to poison Pri- 
vate Osgood, and I shot at him,” said Hicks sullenly. 

“ I not only accuse you,” said the reporter, “ but I can 
swear that while concealed outside that window I saw 
you drop something into this pitcher.” 

Hicks tried to take the pitcher out of Johnny’s hand, 
but Dr. Prescott interfered and took possession of it. 

“ Arrest that man ! I shall analyze the contents of 
this pitcher this evening.” 

“ I hope, doctor, you will not place me under arrest,” 
said Johnny anxiously. 

“ I believe it is my duty to do so, sir, as you have 
accused Corporal Hicks of a grave crime.” 

“ All right, doctor. I can honestly take an oath to my 
assertion, and I am perfectly willing to be put under 
arrest if you will send this package by one of your men 
to the nearest post office, as I am the correspondent of 
the New York Herald." 

“ I will have your mail forwarded with my own in an 
hour.” 

Johnny bowed and marched out of the room with one 
of the guards. Hicks had already been disarmed and 
locked in a small outhouse, where he was securely 
guarded. 

Dr. Prescott analyzed the lemonade and found arsenic 
in it. He wrote out a report of the facts, and placing 
the document in the hands of his assistant, sent him with 
the prisoner and a guard of five men to Major Elliott. 

Two days afterward General Yorke, who commanded 
the division, called together a military court and had the 
prisoner brought before him. 


320 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The general’s tent was a large one — in the center of it 
was a small table, surrounded by the general’s aids, who 
were supplied with writing material and ready to take 
reports of the testimony. 

Major Elliott, Colonel Whitman, Lieutenant Tracy, 
and several other officers belonging to the staff of 
General Yorke sat near him. 

To the intense surprise of everyone Hicks pleaded 
guilty. 

He handed two letters to General Yorke, from Detec- 
tive Crawford, in which the latter urged him to earn 
the promised reward, and report the death of Private 
Osgood. 

“ Did the detective ever tell you the names of the 
parties who wished to have Private Osgood put out of 
the way ? ” 

“ No, general.” 

“ By your own confession. Corporal Hicks, you are a 
would-be murderer, therefore an unsafe man to serve 
under the Stars and Stripes. Your record is bad — the 
only redeeming quality you possess is that you are a 
good fighter, and on that account I am sorry to pass the 
sentence of the court upon you.” 

“ Don’t hang me ! ” exclaimed the prisoner in a voice 
rendered husky by emotion. 

“ No, corporal. The sentence of the court is that you 
shall be shot at sunrise to-morrow morning, and may the 
Lord have mercy on your soul.” 

The unhappy man looked around him, after he saluted 
General Yorke, with a smile on his face. He felt no 
degradation in being court-martialed. 

The next morning Hicks was taken out into a field 


thp: court-martial. 


321 


with twelve of his comrades, who were selected to exe- 
cute the sentence of the court. 

Major Elliott', Captain Jones, and Lieutenant Tracy 
were on the ground. 

Johnny stood on a hill overlooking the scene and wit- 
nessed the execution. 

The corporal, with his hands tied behind him and his 
eyes blindfolded, was placed in the center, and the twelve 
infantrymen formed a circle about the distance of six 
feet from where he stood. 

Lieutenant Tracy counted “ One ! two ! three ! Fire ! ” 
and Corporal Hicks fell, pierced to the heart by several 
bullets. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


IN LIBBY PRISON. 

Edward Osgood's wound rapidly healed, and he 
rejoined his regiment feeling thankful that his life was 
preserved. 

Johnny had moved on with the Army of the Potomac 
in search of news, and he remained with it until the fol- 
lowing spring ; then one night the Herald's special cor- 
respondent went out with some scouts, and the entire 
party were captured. 

The reporter was sent to Richmond, and confined in 
Libby Prison ; as he was not a soldier, he was put on his 
parole of honor, and allowed more liberty than the other 
prisoners. 

He made good use of his time there, as he wrote a 
careful description of the Confederate prison, also the 
names of the different officers confined there, hoping to 
be able to forward the report at some future day. 

Libby Prison was originally a tobacco warehouse, and 
was a two-story building with several doors and numer- 
ous windows, which were secured when it came to be 
used as a military prison. 

Johnny tried to make friends with all the Confederates 
he met in his free and easy manner. 

“ I say, friend," he remarked one day to a sentinel on 
guard before the prison, “will you smile? " 


322 


IN LIBBY PRISON. 


323 


“ I would if I had something to smile with.” 

Johnny having his flask about him, handed it to the 
soldier, who put it to his lips and drank. 

“ Thank you, my friend, that is the first drop of good 
stuff I have had in a year. We cannot get good whisky 
in Richmond any more. You’re one of the paroled 
men ? ” 

“ Yes, I have the freedom of walking about the prison, 
and I am allowed to come and go, but why I should ever 
have been sent here I don’t know.” 

“ Because you’re a prisoner of war.” 

• “ It is an outrage to make me a prisoner of war. I am 
not a soldier, I am a reporter, and I haven’t the slightest 
objection to writing you all up if you will only find some 
means to wire the report through to New York. I was 
captured in April, and now it is nearly June, and here 
I still remain. I would rather go and be a ‘devil ’ again 
than to have to pass my time in enforced idleness.” 

The sentinel looked at the reporter with a strange 
smile. 

“ I never knew that a human being was a devil.” 

“ Oh, I did not have the horns and hoofs, man — I was 
a printer’s ‘ devil ’ ; then I went in for law, but I found 
out that the gentry were rather queer, and I returned to 
my first trade — set type for a while — got tired of that, 
and became a reporter.” 

“ It is too bad you were captured ; you seem to be a 
bright sort of a chap,” said the soldier, slowly marching 
up and down with Johnny. 

“It is rather hard on a fellow to feel that some other 
chap has made a good thing out of his obituary — I sup- 
pose they had an extra out — I think I hear the newsboys 


324 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

crying out, ‘ Capture of our brave correspondent, John 
Ryan, Esq.’ I suppose they have written up all the good 
qualities that I never had. A dead man is generally de- 
scribed as a first-class fellow. Do you know any of the 
officers here who would exert themselves to get me 
exchanged ? ” 

“ No, 1 don’t,” answered his companion. 

“ Was ever a chap in such hard luck ? I have a dozen 
articles in my notebook that would bring money in New 
York. I have written sketches of Lee, Johnston, and 
Early. My fame as a war correspondent would be world 
wide if they were published. By Jove ! I must find some 
way to get back to my post ; another month here would 
kill me — they must either exchange me or get me a job 
on one of the papers. I can’t stand this sort of life any 
longer. Who is that officer coming down the street ? ” 

“ That is Dr. Dempsey, our head surgeon — go and 
speak to him, he is a very kind-hearted gentleman, and 
he might use his influence to get you exchanged.” 

“ Thank you kindly for giving me the hint ; I will try 
him,” and with a nod to his new acquaintance the reporter 
walked toward the surgeon. 

“Good-day, doctor,” said Johnny, bowing. “I wish 
to consult you regarding an important matter.” 

Dr. Dempsey returned the young man’s bow, and 
said : 

“ If you will kindly walk up into the small room I use 
for consulting when I visit the prisoners I will spare 
you ten minutes.” 

“ I’hank you,” answered the reporter, entering the 
lower floor of Libby and going upstairs to a small room, 
partitioned off one of the larger ones on the second 


IN LIBBY PRISON. 325 

Story, where the doctor kept a sort of dispensary for his 
patients confined in the prison. 

Handing Johnny a seat, he politely inquired what his 
ailments might be. 

“ I am perfectly healthy, but I am wretchedly nervous 
because I am a prisoner of war. I wish you would use 
your influence to get me exchanged. I am not a fight- 
ing man — I prefer to fight my battles on paper — I am a 
newspaper man.” 

“ I am sorry you are a prisoner, sir, for I have a great 
respect for the press. What State are you from ? ” 

“ New York. I was special reporter for the New 
York Herald." 

Ah, I have a relative a prisoner here who might like 
to make your acquaintance,” said Dr. Dempsey. Rising, 
and going to the door, he called out : “ Send Captain 
Graham here : you will find him in the mess room.” 

“ My brother-in-law,” he continued, turning to Johnny, 
“ is a New Yorker and a Federal officer. As you are a 
newspaper man, you may be able to give him some news 
of his friends, for he has not heard from them for nearly 
two years.” 

In a few moments a gentleman in a rather shabby 
United States uniform entered the room. 

He was a handsome man, but with an air of depression 
in his whole mien. He silently shook hands with the 
surgeon. 

“ I sent for you as this gentleman, being a New 
Yorker, may be able to give you some news of your 
family. Allow me to introduce you to ” 

“John Ryan of the New York Herald" said the re- 
porter, bowing. 


326 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Mr. Ryan, allow me to introduce you to my brother- 
in-law, Captain Graham of the Federal service.” 

The reporter nodded, but stood still. 

He was thinking where and when he had heard that 
name before. 

Captain Graham said to him after a short silence : 

“ Perhaps you know something of my uncle : he is a 
prominent business man in New York City, and he is 
president of the Cotton Exchange.” 

“ What is his name ? ” 

“ Arlington. He has been president of the exchange 
for some ten years.” 

“ By the Stars and Stripes ! I knew that I had heard 
your name before. Captain Graham, I can give you 
some very considerable information about your family.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! I shall hear from home at last ! ” 
exclaimed the captain with intense emotion. 

“ I am sorry to say, though, that my news is not good. 
Your uncle died a few months after you entered the 
army.” 

My good kind uncle dead ! He was a second 
father to me. Oh, dear Heaven ! To think I will never 
see his kindly face again.” 

And the tears sprung to the officer’s eyes. Tears 
which were shed for the man who had been both uncle 
and adoptive father to him. 

“ Can you tell me anything of my wife and child ?” 

“ They were alive the last time I heard of them,” 
replied Johnny. 

“ Thank Heaven for that. I suppose Cousin Rich- 
ard has not allowed them to want for anything, and 
without doubt my uncle left them well provided for.” 


IN LIBBY PRISON. 


327 


“ Captain Graham, did you ever suspect your cousin’s 
honor ? ” asked the reporter quietly. 

“ Never, sir. Richard Arlington is a selfish man, but 
I have never known him to do anything to compromise 
his honor as a gentleman.” 

“ I am sorry you have such a high opinion of him, as 
I shall be obliged to shock your feelings greatly. I con- 
sider your cousin one of the greatest scoundrels we 
have in New York City.” 

“ Sir ! ” cried Captain Graham as his face flushed 
hotly, and a dark, angry scrowl appeared on his brow. 

“ I will explain myself ; but you will have to promise 
me to hear what I have to say calmly.” 

“ You are keeping something back from me. Pray 
tell me the worst at once,” said the officer excitedly. 

Dr. Dempsey laid his hand on Captain Graham’s shoul- 
der and said : 

“ My dear boy, don’t excite yourself. You know you 
are not strong yet, and your head will not stand too 
much. Sit down and compose yourself. I will go my 
rounds among the prisoners, and you can hold your con- 
versation here with Mr. Ryan, as I shall give orders to 
the sentinel that you shall not be disturbed.” 

“ Thank you, Charles. I will deem it a favor to 
have a half hour’s private conversation with this gentle- 
man.” 

Dr. Dempsey left the room, and the reporter sat down 
and took a small notebook from his pocket to aid his 
memory regarding the history of certain events which 
had transpired since the departure of Captain Graham 
from New York. 


CHAPTER XL. 


ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 

“ This meeting with you, Captain Graham, beats all 
the sensational reports I overwrote. You were reported 
dead, but your wife would not believe the news,” said 
Johnny. 

“ My poor, faithful Laura ! ” exclaimed the officer 
with visible emotion. “ I was severely wounded at the 
battle of Manassas. Dr. Dempsey discovered me among 
a lot of wounded Confederates, whose injuries he came 
to look after. He had me conve5^ed to the hospital, and 
afterward removed to his own house, where he and his 
wife nursed me. Besides being wounded in my body, my 
head was injured, and for more than a year after my 
wounds had healed I was insane.” 

“ That accounts for your supposed death,” said the 
reporter. 

The captain nodded, and went on : 

“ Dr. Dempsey sent several letters to his sister, who is 
my wife, through some of our officers who were ex- 
changed during the past year.” 

Did he send any the first six months that you were 
wounded ? ” 

“ No ; because he did not wish to let his sister know 
the lamentable condition I was in, and he thought it was 
better for her peace of mind even to suppose me dead 

328 




ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. . 329 

rather than to know me to be a lunatic ; but, thanks to 
kind Providence and Dr. Dempsey’s skillful treatment, 

I regained my reason.” 

‘■Your wife, Captain Graham, has never received a 
line from you since the battle of Manassas.” 

“ Great Heaven ! ” ejaculated Captain Graham. 

“Your uncle went with Mrs. Graham to Washington, 
a few weeks before his death, to inquire about you, but 
they could obtain no news of you ; and when Mrs. Gra- 
ham returned to New York she was prostrated by a slow, 
nervous fever.” 

“ My poor wife ! She has suffered too,” murmured 
the officer in a low tone ; and his deathly pallor be- 
trayed the intense mental anguish he was enduring. 

“ Captain Graham, I will now refer to my diary and 
give you a brief account of events connected with your 
family, in whose affairs I happened to become somewhat 
involved through my interest in a dear friend who has 
been made a victim of unmerited disgrace through the 
machinations of John Blake and your cousin Richard 
Arlington.” 

“ You astonish me, sir. May I inquire who your friend 
is ? ” 

“ Certainly. I believe Mr. Edward Osgood is not 
unknown to you ? ” 

“ Yes, I remember him, and I deeply sympathized with 
him when his father committed suicide.” 

“ Captain Graham, you will feel a greater degree of 
sympathy for my friend when you hear the details of the 
story which I am about to relate to you.” 

Johnny looked at his diary, which contained the con- 
versations he had overheard at the Arlington villa on the 


330 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


day he called on his sweetheart, when he hid behind a 
tree to avoid being seen by Kate’s employer. 

The details of the conspiracy to retain the late million- 
aire cotton merchant’s wealth the reporter related to his 
astonished listener. 

“ Gracious Heaven, let me retain my senses ! I feel 
as if my brain were on fire ! ” cried Captain Graham as 
Johnny finished his narrative. 

“ You must get back to New York in double-quick 
time, captain, for your wife needs you.” 

“ You say that my cousin has managed to get posses- 
sion of my uncle’s entire estate, and my wife is trying to 
support herself by her needle ? ” 

“ Yes, captain. On my honor, I have stated the 
truth.” 

Captain Graham sprung to his feet and paced the 
floor excitedly. 

“ To think that I am a prisoner of war — my wife and 
child starving, perhaps, in New York without a friend 
to assist them. It is more than I can endure.” 

Dr. Dempsey entered the apartment at this moment 
and he at once perceived the state of excitement that his 
brother-in-law was in. 

“ Come, come, Harry ! This will never do. You will 
be ill again.” 

“ I know it, but what can I do ? If I cannot get 
exchanged at once my wife will die — tell Dr. Dempsey 
the sad tale you have just related to me,” said the cap- 
tain, turning to Johnny. 

The reporter briefly gave the outlines of the case to 
the surgeon, and that gentleman was overwhelmed with 
surprise. 


ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 


331 


“ I have waited for the past two weeks hoping to be 
able to have you exchanged, but I have not succeeded 
in doing so. My sister Laura needs your presence. I 
love my country, but my only sister cannot be left unpro- 
tected — you must escape.” 

“But will not that involve you in disgrace?” 

“ I hope not ; however, I shall risk it. I am a physi- 
cian, therefore they will not censure me much even if 
the truth is discovered ; besides, you are now a prisoner 
confined in Libby, and not an inmate of my family, 
and if you escape with Mr. Ryan, who is a paroled man, 
he will get the blame, as we generally make the Yankees 
shoulder all our sins.” 

“1 am willing to take the blame — in fact, bear any- 
thing to get back to the Union army, for I would rather 
be shot than live such an idle existence,” said the 
reporter. 

As they were speaking, the sound of horse’s hoofs was 
heard through the open window. 

“ Whoa ! whoa, boy ! ” was heard in an unmistakable 
negro accent. 

Dr. Dempsey looked out of the window a moment, and . 
when he put his head in he said : 

“ Here comes Dan, the very man I wanted to see.” 

Five minutes afterward a knock was heard at the door 
of the doctor’s office, and an old colored man entered 
with a basket of eggs. 

Massa, missis sent me with these eggs for the sick 
Linkin ossifers.” 

“All right ; leave the basket on the table. Dan, you 
have been in our family for over forty years and I believe 
you have always been kindly treated.” 


332 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ Yes, massa.” 

“lam going to give you your freedom. You shall 
not wait to receive it from the Federals.” 

“ God bless you, massa. It has been the dream of my 
life to know how a free man felt,” said the old colored 
man with tears in his eyes. 

“And your wife and children shall have theirs too.” 

“ Oh, massa, massa ! ” cried the grateful fellow, falling- 
on his knees. 

“ You shall live with me until the war is over, and then 
you and your family can rent my small farm in Norfolk 
County and be my tenants. You shall commence your 
new life under my care.” 

“ Oh, massa ! massa ! ” and Dan kissed his master’s 
hand ; his heart was too full to give utterance to the 
gratitude with which it was overflowing. 

“ It has always been my intention to act thus toward 
you and your family, for you have ever been faithful to 
me and mine. I will only ask one favor from you in 
return. That is, to assist me in getting my brother-in- 
law to escape.” 

“ I will, massa, if I have to die for doing it,” cried 
Dan, springing to his feet. 

“ Take off that gray overcoat, Dan, and give it to Cap- 
tain Graham — you are taller than he by a few inches, 
and it will cover him from head to foot.” 

Dan took off his coat at once and handed it to the 
captain. 

“ But, massa, his face is white, mine is black — you will 
have to change Massa Graham’s face too if you want 
him to pass the guards.” 

“ You are right, Dan. What are we to do? ” , 


ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 


333 


Light that lamp and I’ll show you,” said Johnny. 

When the lamp had been lit the reporter made Cap- 
tain Graham sit down. 

He then proceeded to smoke the cork of one of the 
medicine bottles, and blacked the officer’s face most 
artistically. 

“Oh, Golly, you have changed Massa Graham’s face,” 
cried Dan, laughing. 

“The captain will pass for a handsome colored gentle- 
man. Pull up the collar of that coat around your ears 
and put on Dan’s cap. Now let me blacken your hands 
and you can walk out with the empty basket.” 

“ Your plan is excellent, Mr. Ryan. We will try it, as 
it is our only chance. Harry, drive at once to my house. 
Dan can walk out of here in another hour, when the 
guard is changed, with some medicine bottles, and say 
I sent him for them. You understand, Dan?” 

“ Yes, massa. I’ll get off — all right — trust this boy,” 
replied Dan confidently. 

“Very well. When you get to my house drive the 
horse into the stable and leave him there. I will be 
home shortly, and Mr. Ryan will meet us there. Dan 
shall drive you, both hidden under some straw, in his 
market wagon to the outpost, and you will have to man- 
age the rest.’’ 

“ Never fear, we will get into the Union lines all 
right,” said the reporter. 

“There is a poor fellow who is dying in the hospital. 
He is left solely in my care. I’ll have him buried in 
your name, Harry, if I can manage it ; I hope so at all 
events, and for my sister’s sake I’ll run all risks.” 

“ The programme is not bad. Captain Graham, let 


334 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER, 

US see you leave first before I attempt to follow,” said 
Johnny as he finished the. officer’s hands by pulling 
down the sleeves of the gray overcoat as far as possible. 

It was almost dark, and Captain Graham succeeded 
in walking out of Libby Prison unchallenged by the 
guard. 

Dr. Dempsey saw his brother-in-law get into the 
wagon and drive away. 

“ There, he’s off, he’s escaped,” whispered the re- 
porter. 

“ Yes, thank Heaven. I shall leave now, and you had 
better walk out shortly after, as we have not a moment 
to lose. I will give you your passes signed by General 
Lee, which he gave me to use in case I could send two 
or three men into your lines to obtain medicines, as our 
supply is pretty well used up, and we can sometimes 
get through the lines when we meet friendly sentinels.” 

“ I feel like a man again,” said Johnny as he saw the 
doctor leave the room. 

Dan and the reporter listened, and at last they heard 
the welcome sound of the guards being changed. Dan 
grabbed the medicine bottles, and putting on one of Dr. 
Dempsey’s old caps, he locked up the surgeon’s office 
and walked boldly out of old Libby. 

Shortly after Johnny showed his parole pass to the 
guard and joined the colored man, who was waiting for 
him around the corner of the street. 

Captain Graham and the reporter, after a hearty sup- 
per, went out to Dr. Dempsey’s stable, where they shook 
hands with the doctor, who covered them over with 
straw in the wagon, and Dan drove off in great spirits 
toward the suburbs of Richmond. 


ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 


335 


Dan knew the country well, and urged his horse to its 
uttermost speed. 

He skillfully avoided the Confederate outposts, and 
never halted until he came in sight of the Union pickets. 

Then Captain Graham and Johnny got out of the 
wagon, shook hands with Dan, and walked toward the 
Union lines. 


CHAPTER XLI. 


RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES. 

The Sunday after Margaret buried her little son she 
persuaded Ann to accompany her to Greenwood. 

The faithful woman shook her head as they walked up 
the winding pathway toward little Harry’s grave. 

“ Sure, ma’am, I never like to come here ; it always 
makes me feel nervous for a week afterward.” 

“ But, Ann, it is a comfort to get near my lost darling, 
even if the earth hides him from me.” 

“ I cannot agree with you, ma’am. I never like to 
think of anyone in the grave, especially a sweet little 
babe. I feel sure your little son is a bright angel, and 
I think of him as such.” 

“ You are right, Ann ; but, oh, I miss my babe so much ! ” 

“ You do, ma’am, but try to feel comforted in t|ie 
thought that he is far happier in God’s heavenly kingdom 
than ever you could make him here. No sorrows can 
reach him. It is a blessing for the child that he died in 
his youth and innocence.” 

Margaret felt rebuked at the words of her humble 
friend, and she could not help but admire Ann for her 
simple faith. 

When they came to the child’s grave they were sur- 
prised to find an elaborate floral harp of white tuberoses 
and japonicas with “ Our Boy ” in small crimson immor^ 
telles at the bottom of it. • 

336 ■’ ’■ , . • 


RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES. ^ 337 

Margaret knelt down by the grave and wept, for the 
child had filled a void in her aching heart, and this made 
her feel his death with a sharper pang than she would 
have had if a husband’s love had comforted her in her 
sorrow. 

Margaret looked at the flowers, and knew that the 
man who had been her husband had visited their child’s 
grave, perhaps that morning, as they were still fresh. 

See, Ann ! Albert has been here. He is not alto- 
gether heartless,” said the weeping woman as she arose 
from her knees, trying in vain to restrain the fast-falling 
tears. 

Ann did not appear to notice her remark, for the good 
woman generally lost her patience when Margaret spoke 
of her faithless husband. 

The wronged woman felt her old servant’s antagonism 
to the father of her dead child, and she did not utter 
another word in his defense. 

She plucked a few flowers from the floral piece which 
rested above her dead darling’s head, and with a silent 
farewell left the grave. 

The following Monday Margaret resumed her duties 
in Moore & Joslin’s. 

Margaret, not hearing from her brother, watched the 
progress of the war with a very keen interest, and when 
she read his name among the mortally wounded at the 
battle of Antietam she felt overwhelmed by misfortune, 
as she was unable to go to him, -'it being impossible for 
her to command the necessary funds, owing to her 
child’s death. 

Ann had lost several of her best paying boarders, who 
had enlisted to avoid the draft, and therefore Margaret 


338 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

felt herself obliged to exert herself to the best of her 
ability. 

She wrote her brother a letter, hoping it would reach 
him. 

A week after she received an answer from Major Elli- 
ott giving her the details of the battle and eulogizing 
Edward Osgood’s valor. He wrote “ that he risked his 
life to save mine.” 

Margaret corresponded for a month with the major, 
receiving weekly reports of the progress of her brother 
toward convalescence. 

When Edward had sufficiently recovered he wrote her 
a long letter himself, explaining many matters which 
hitherto had appeared incomprehensible to his sister. 

Edward Osgood had risen rapidly in his chosen pro- 
fession, owing chiefly to his bravery, and also to the 
many vacancies caused by the dreadful havoc made in 
General MacClellan’s division by the deadly bullets of 
the enemy’s sharpshooters. 

Lieutenant Osgood one evening sat in his tent reading 
a letter from his sister, in which she had inclosed a 
photograph of herself. 

He had gazed long and lovingly at her beautiful face, 
and then laid the card on his bed, when Major Elliott 
entered. 

The two officers had become inseparable since Os- 
good’s promotion to a second lieutenancy ; even when 
Osgood was a non-commissioned officer the major had 
endeavored to prove he did not feel ungrateful for the 
great service which had been rendered him at Antietam. 

Major Elliott picked up the photograph and looked at 
it intently for several minutes. 


RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES. 


339 


“ May I inquire who this lady is ?” 

“ Certainly, major ; it is the picture of my only sister.” 

“ She has a very beautiful face of a rare type. I be- 
lieve I have seen her somewhere, for her countenance 
appears very familiar to me. Ah ! I recollect. One 
evening during my last sojourn in New York, where I 
was sent about some recruiting business, I saw a young 
lady struggling in the arms of a well-dressed man who 
was in a semi-intoxicated condition, I rescued her from 
him and escorted her home. I could almost swear she 
was the lady who sat for this picture.” 

“ Ah, I never heard of the affair.’* 

“ Excuse my catechising you regarding your private 
affairs ; but was your sister employed as a saleslady 
in one of the New York stores ? ” 

“Yes, major, she was employed at Jones Bros.’ years 
ago.” 

“ Then I am not mistaken, for I seldom forget the 
features of any face I have seen.” 

“ Poor Margaret ! She, like myself, has had a sad 
fate since my father’s death.” 

“ Surely you are not related to the late banker whose 
suicide a few years ago created such a great sensation 
in New York ? ” 

“ I am his son.” 

“ Strange ! he was o'ne of my father’s classmates at 
Yale College, and I remember the old gentleman often 
spoke of him. They corresponded for years. My father 
settled in New Haven and practiced law until his death, 
which occurred prior to your father’s.” 

Edward Osgood was greatly astonished to hear all 
this from the major, and in turn told him his history. 


340 , ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Well, you certainly have had a strange fate, but let 
us trust you will live to return to New York and punish 
the scoundrels.” - 

“ I,hope Heaven will spare me to unmask them,” said 
Lieutenant Osgood. 

Lhree days after Major Elliott and his friend were in 
another battle in which the Third Infantry were almost 
cut to pieces, though Edward and the major escaped 
with a few flesh wounds. 

Our hero was promoted after the battle to a captaincy, 
and the following week both officers were sent to New 
York on a recruiting expedition, as they wanted all the 
men they could obtain, and a draft had been ordered to 
fill up the vacancies in the Union ranks. 

Margaret heard of her brother’s promotion with a feel- 
ing of gratified pride, and Ann rejoiced in her former 
young master’s good fortune. 

The summer of 1863 was one of intense excitement, 
and business was exceedingly dull. 

Margaret had the good fortune of beings one of the 
hands who were retained by Moore & Joslin when they 
discharged a number of their employees. She had 
charge of the stock in the underwear department, as 
she had striven hard to master the details of the 
department. 

One day Mr. Moore appeared, accompanied by a gen- 
tleman, near where she was busy arranging her stock. 

The gentleman was Harry Lacy, who was drumming 
up trade for the house he represented. 

Mr. Moore showed Margaret some goods, and asked 
her if she ever had any call for them. 


RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES. 34I 

“ No, sir, we could not sell them. They would only 
be dead stock on your hands.” 

“ That settles that line of goods, Lacy, for we find 
Mrs. Williams never makes a mistake in her depart- 
ment.” 

Mr. Moore passed on to the lower end of the room, and 
Harry Lacy gave Margaret a vindictive scowl. 

“ You prevented my making a sale. Well, I do not 
blame you, for you would not be behind the counter to- 
day but for me. I had my revenge, my proud beauty. 
You had better have accepted the offer I made you in 
Chicago.” 

“ I would rather starve than suffer the contamination 
of your vile presence. You have blasted my reputation, 
but I know you will be punished for your villainy.” 

“ Bah ! I don’t believe in such stuff ; the innocent 
always suffer.” 

“ Only for a time, sir ; you will live to realize what I 
say,” said Margaret as she turned her back and busied 
herself replacing various boxes on the shelves behind the 
counter. 

Harry Lacy made no reply, but passed on to rejoin 
Mr. Moore. 

That day was to be an eventful one in the life of our 
heroine. 

About five o’clock the store was almost empty, 
and Margaret had just finished with her last customer 
when the awful cry of “fire” echoed through the 
building. 

The windows fronting Grand Street were open, and 
Margaret supposed some establishment in the neighbor- 
hood was on fire, so she calmly continued putting back 


342 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


in their different boxes the articles which had been 
exhibited on the counter. 

She heard the ringing of the fire bells and the noise of 
the crowd, but she was so absorbed in her occupation 
that she did not realize Moore & Joslin’s was aflame, 
and that she was the only one left on the second floor. 

She had seen several of the employees rush out, but 
imagined they were going to watch the fire ; even the 
smell of the smoke did not disturb her, as she thought it 
was wafted through the open windows ; but when the 
large room was filled with a blinding smoke which al- 
most suffocated her Margaret was paralyzed by fear. 

Her natural courage conquered, and she rushed to the 
stairs, to find them enveloped in flames which drove her 
back, and she staggered toward the windows. 

The wind fanned the flames, which caught the light 
summer fabrics, and the dry goods of every description 
were a mass of burning materials. 

Margaret stood at one of the second-story windows, a 
beautiful figure against a background of fire which every 
moment threatened to engulf her. 

. She held put her arms imploringly to the crowd in the 
street below, but no one responded to her wild gesture 
of despair, and she felt a horrible death was awaiting 
her. 

Suddenly the air was rent with a wild cheer, and the 
people below crowded back as a gentleman wearing the 
United States uniform threw off his coat and dashed up 
a ladder which the firemen had just placed against the 
front of the burning dry goods store. 

He was not a moment too soon, for as he caught our 
heroine in his arms the flames poured out of the windows, 


RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES. 343 

setting fire to her clothes as he carried her down to the 
street. 

He literally tore the flaming skirts from Margaret, 
scorching his hands severely as he did so. 

Margaret opened her eyes and silently thanked her 
preserver, but he did not heed her entreaty to set her 
down, for the officer took her again in his arms and car- 
ried her to the opposite side of the street, right into the 
ranks of the crowd. 

There was not an instant to spare, as the roof of Moore 
& Joslin’s fell in with an awful crash, throwing burning 
material out of the windows and setting fire to the ad- 
joining building. 

Major Elliott recognized the saleslady whom he had 
rescued as his friend’s sister, and perceiving that Mar- 
garet had fainted, he bore her to a place of safety sev- 
eral blocks down the street. 

When Margaret regained consciousness she gave Major 
Elliott her address, and being able to walk, she hastened 
home, where she found Ann in a state of distraction 
standing on the stoop. The faithful woman imagined 
that Margaret had perished in the flames. 

The major, who had accompanied her, was severely 
burned, and Margaret immediately brought some lint 
and sweet oil and dressed the painful blisters on his 
hands. 

“ May I ask to whom I am indebted for perserving me 
from a frightful death ? ” asked our heroine. 

“ Your brother’s friend,” he replied. 

“ Major Elliott ? ” cried Margaret as a rosy blush 
appeared on her beautiful face. 

‘‘ Yes, that is my name. How came you to guess it ? ” 


344 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


“ Because I recognized you from Edward’s descrip- 
tion.” 

“ My dear madam, we have met before.” 

“ Yes ; I imagined I had seen you before. You are 
the gentleman who came to my assistance some years 
ago. How can I ever thank you sufficiently ? ” 

“ I am already repaid. Your brother risked his life 
for mine ; so pray do not consider yourself under the 
slightest obligation to me,” said the gallant officer as he 
bowed and took his departure. 


CHAPTER XLII. 


THE SILENT PARTNER. 

Jones Bros, had prospered wonderfully, and they 
were mentioned as rivals to old metropolitan firms. 

These two individuals were the envy of large-salaried 
salesmen in other houses who were ambitious to go into 
business for themselves. 

Many people wondered from what source they had 
managed to obtain capital to start and float their exten- 
sive trade. 

David Jones had been the cashier, and James the law- 
yer, for the old firm of Clark & Belford, and Mrs. Jar- 
dine, a wealthy widow who was Mr. Belford’s sister, had 
started them in busine.ss, retaining a third interest in the 
firm as their silent partner. 

This lady had a palatial home in Philadelphia, and 
she came to New York semi-annually to look over the 
books of the firm and receive her dividends. 

Mrs. Jardine was -an energetic business woman ; but 
she was good-hearted ; therefore when Albert Williams 
obtained his divorce from Margaret Osgood she wrote 
a very sharp letter to David Jones expressing in plain 
terms her disapproval of his nephew’s conduct. 

There was also another member of the Jones family 
on whom the silent partner did not cast an approving 
eye. 


345 


34^ ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

This was a younger brother of the other members of 
the firm who had come to New York after the Jones 
brothers were established in business, John Jones, after- 
ward known to the- dry goods trade by the familiar term 
of “ Jack.” 

He had but a limited education, but any amount of 
assurance, and his ignorant manners and strange at- 
tempts at playing the gentleman made him the laugh- 
ingstock of the employees of his brothers. 

Whatever his personal vices were he had escaped the 
family failing and never drank anything stronger than 
coffee. His appearance showed the natural shrewdness 
of the man, for he had small gray-blue eyes, pinched 
nostrils, thin lips, and fiery red hair. 

The first six months of his sojourn in America was 
spent at a country boarding school, as his relatives were 
ashamed of his ignorance. 

Jack was smart and learned rapidly ; therefore on his 
return from school his brother placed him in charge of 
one of the best salesmen in the house to learn the 
business. 

He grasped the details of the trade before the expira- 
tion of a year, and was given charge of a department 
over the heads of men who had been with the house 
ever since it was opened. 

James Jones had been frequently seen on Broadway 
in an intoxicated condition during the last year, and 
when the popular store of Jones Bros, closed their 
doors one morning, and hung out crape streamers with 
a card on which was written : “ Closed on account of the 
death of Mr. James Jones,” no one was surprised. 

Gerald Flavin was intensely grieved at the sudden 


THE SILENT PARTNER. 


347 


death of his genial employer, as he had been strongly 
attached to the dead man. 

Madame Effray fainted, and many of the salesladies 
wept, for he had been a general favorite in the house. 
Gerald Flavin made all the arrangements for the funeral, 
and telegraphed to his wife — Lizzie North was at that 
time a bride of a few months — then he went uptown to 
his employer’s elegant home and prepared to spend the 
night assuaging the grief of the stricken family. 

It was almost midnight, and every member of the 
household had retired except the bookkeeper, when a 
loud ring at the crape-covered door startled Gerald, who 
was seated in the back parlor near the coffin of James 
Jones. He arose, opened the hall door, and was sur- 
prised to find Madame Effray. 

She was dressed in deep mourning, and her face was 
covered by a long crape veil. She silently followed 
Gerald Flavin into the apartment where the body was 
laid. She removed the heavy velvet pall from the 
coffin, and put back the glass which covered the face of 
the corpse. 

The unhappy woman sobbed convulsively as she 
looked at the face of the dead man. 

Gerald laid his hand on her shoulder and said : 

“ Ho not grieve so, madam.” 

“ But I loved him so much. Oh, my friend, you do 
not know what I suffered when I saw him killing him- 
self day by day. He was never happy after that miser- 
able Jack came to New York.” 

“ Hush, they will hear you upstairs.” 

“ What do I care now ? I am his wife. We were 
married in Paris before I came to New York ; but we 


34^ ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

never let anyone know it, because I was their forelady, 
and you know Mr. David Jones is so very proud. My 
beautiful young friend Miss Osgood was not good 
enough for the family of this new millionaire, so what 
had I to expect but a divorce ? I begged my husband 
not to speak of our marriage. I was a coward, I should 
have let the world know that I was his wife ; I should 
have made a home for him, and then he would not be 
lying here so cold and still. Oh, why did I not save 
him from such a death ? ” cried the newly made widow, 
clasping her hands together in agony, and falling on her 
knees beside the coffin. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, madam, do not give way so ! ” 
said Gerald Flavin, utterly unable to control the grief- 
stricken woman. 

The door bell again rung, and when he opened it 
Mrs. Jardine entered. 

“ I received your telegram announcing James Jones’ 
death this morning, but I could not leave Philadelphia 
by an earlier train.” 

‘‘You are very welcome,” said Gerald as he showed 
the silent partner into the parlor. 

Mrs. Jardine, who was a tall, commanding woman, 
walked straight into the back room and leaned over the 
coffin. " 

“ Fie looks very natural,” she said. 

“ He died very suddenly.” 

“ I was shocked when I received your telegram,” 
answered Mrs. Jardine to Gerald, without noticing the 
mourning figure crouching on the opposite side of the 
coffin. 

“ Yes ; but his death was very sudden, and his brother 


THE SILENT PARTNER. 


349 


David is almost heartbroken, but Jack Jones does not 
appear to care.’' 

“ No ; he would not be affected even if his elder 
brother died. He is too utterly selfish to care for any- 
one but himself. I look upon him as an idiot.” 

“ An idiot, Mrs. Jardine, who will give us trouble.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the silent partner. 

“ That he will persuade David Jones to give him an 
interest in the firm.” 

“ Not with my consent, sir, and I do not think David 
Jones would care to have all business relations as well as 
friendship broken up between us for the sake of pleasing 
Jack.” 

A heartbroken sob startled Mrs. Jardine, and looking 
around her, she perceived the forelady. 

“What are you doing here ?” asked Mrs. Jardine in 
amazement. 

“ I have a right to be here, madam. James was my 
husband.” 

“Your husband ? ” cried the silent partner in bewilder- 
ment. 

“ Yes, madam,” answered the Frenchwoman, rising 
and taking a paper out of her dress pocket, which she 
handed to Mrs. Jardine. 

The latter opened it and saw that it was a marriage 
certificate. 

“ Yes, you have a right to weep for the dead man 
which no one will dispute. You are his widow, and I 
will protect you.” 

“ May Heaven bless you, madam,” murmured the little 
forelady as she kissed Mrs. Jardine’s hand when she 
returned the paper. 


350 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

David Jones raved when he discovered that his brother 
had left not only a widow, but a will in which she was 
amply provided for. 

Mrs. Jardine insisted on Mrs. Jones receiving her 
legacy, and she protected her from the machinations of 
the dead merchant’s relatives. 

The day before the widow’s departure for Europe she 
surprised Margaret by calling on her. 

“ How did you discover my address, madam ?” 

“ Through Mr. Flavin.” 

Margaret related all her trials to the good-hearted 
Frenchwoman, who shed tears of sympathy over her 
sorrows. 

The two friends bade each other a sad farewell, as 
they never expected to meet again, but Margaret prom- 
ised to write to Mrs. James Jones as soon as the latter 
arrived in Europe. 

The next day Margaret had another caller in the per- 
son of Mrs. Jardine. 

“I received your address, my child, from Mrs. Jones 
on board the steamer this morning when I went down to 
see her off, and here I am. I called to know all about 
your Chicago divorce, for you know I am the silent 
partner of the firm known as Jones Bros.” 

“You are very kind to take an interest in my affairs,” 
said Margaret as the grateful tears stood in her eyes. 

“ Not at all. I consider it my duty to know all about 
the Jones family. They were taken by the hand years 
ago by my brother when they first came to this country. 
I gave them capital to go into business. Sit down 
and tell me the history of your marriage with Albert 
Williams.” 


THE SILENT PARTNER. 


351 


Margaret complied with Mrs. Jardine’s request and 
gave all the points of her miserable experience of mar- 
ried life. 

“David Jones shall not have another dollar of my 
money, especially as he wishes me to allow him to take 
his brother Jack into partnership. My brother did not 
for a moment dream that David Jones would drag over 
his large family of brothers, nephews, and cousins, and 
place them in the store, when he advised me to put my 
capital in David’s hands to start a business. Such 
people are not worthy of having a helping hand extended 
to them. The partnership shall be dissolved, and I will 
set Gerald Flavin up in a small, safe business, for he is 
really the only honorable man among them.” 

“Gerald Flavin deserves to be assisted, for his private 
character is above reproach,” said Margaret enthusias- 
tically. 

“You are right, but, my deai\child. Providence pun- 
ishes those who do evil even in this world. Albert 
Williams is not happy with the lady who is now his wife, 
and their child, an infant of three months, is blind. I 
fear the next funeral in the Jones family will be that of 
the man who wronged you.” 

Mrs. Jardine looked at Margaret as she spoke, and 
she saw her face flush painfully, then become ghastly. 

“ What do you mean?” asked Margaret, clasping her 
hands over her heart as if she would still its throbbings. 

“ That he is dying. I heard so this morning. He had 
a fit yesterday from excessive drinking.” 

Margaret did not answer her visitor. She had fainted 
in her chair, and would have fallen had not Mrs. Jardine 
caught her in her arms. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 


AS YE SOW, SO SHALL YE REAP. 

When Margaret was restored to consciousness Mrs. 
Jardine took her leave, promising to call within a few 
days. 

Our heroine could not sleep that night, for she was 
haunted by the image of the man who had been her 
husband. 

She recalled all his acts of loving kindness to her, and 
the joy she had experienced during the first months of 
their marriage; 

She understood why Albert Williams had been so un- 
happy with another, because his conscience — that still, 
small voice within him — could not be stifled. 

She knew that the man who had been her husband 
should not have wronged her by supposing that she 
could break her marriage vows. 

A feeling of overpowering sorrow took possession of 
her. 

She suffered no longer from jealousy — her feelings 
were those of tender pity for the man to whom she had 
given her love. 

He was dying in the same city, and yet she was sepa- 
rated from him — she no longer had a right to enter his 
house, to stand beside his bed, to soothe and comfort 
him in his agony. 


35e 


AS YE SOW, SO SHALL YE REAP. 353 

Who had deprived her of her rights ? What had she 
done to merit such injustice ? 

These were the questions she constantly asked herself 
during the hours of that weary night as she tossed from 
side to side in quest of sleep, which she failed to woo to 
her eyelids. 

The next day she was consumed by a nervous fever, 
and she pressed her hands to her heart, as if to restrain 
the violent pain which was consuming her. 

She felt that she hated the woman who had dared to 
take her husband from her — she detested her fc • hav- 
ing stolen her husband’s love ; but Albert was dying, and 
she would go to him at once — no one shbuld keep her 
from him. 

That night, closely veiled, Margaret told Ann she was 
going to see a friend who was ill, and she left the house 
at eight o’clock. 

She took a Third Avenue car, and got out at Forty- 
ninth Street, and walked hastily toward Fifth Avenue. 

She found the house without any difficulty, as she had 
taken the number out of the directory. 

Margaret rang the door bell with a trembling hand, 
and asked the girl who opened the door for Mr. Wil- 
liams. 

“ He is too ill to see anyone, ma’am. He had a fit 
to-day, and the doctor has given up all hope of his 
recovery.” 

Is he dying ? ” 

Yes, ma’am, I believe so. I do not think his wife 
will miss him much, for he never showed her any respect 
— there wasn’t much love on his side,” said the very 
voluble domestic. 


354 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

In what room is he asked Margaret. 

“ In the front room in the second story,” replied the 
servant. 

The heartbroken woman rushed upstairs, leaving the 
astonished girl staring after her. 

Margaret opened the door of the dimly lighted cham- 
ber. 

She went to the bedside where the father of her dead 
child lay. 

Albert Williams was lightly sleeping. 

The pallor of his face was ghastly, and his eyes seemed 
hollow though the lids were closed over them. 

She put her face close to his and listened to his fitful 
breathing. 

The sands in the hourglass of his life were running 
short, and he was dying slowly but surely. 

Dying almost alone, for the nurse who was hired to 
take care of him was downstairs eating his supper, 
and Mrs. Williams was with her infant son. He was 
usually taken to the nursery very early in the evening by 
his mother. 

The house was very still, and Margaret did not per- 
ceive the servant who had opened the door for her until 
the girl laid her hand on her shoulder. 

“ Please give me your name, ma’am. No one is al- 
lowed to see Mr. Williams but his relatives. The doctor 
forbade him having any visitors.” 

“ I decline to give you my name, but I have a right to 
be here. Please leave us together.” 

“ Well, I never. I will go and tell my lady,” said the 
servant, opening the door. 

Albert opened his eyes. 


AS YE SOW, SO SHALL YE REAP. 355 

“ Maggie ! My wife,” he murmured, feebly stretching 
out his arms. 

With a sob the heartbroken divorced wife flung her- 
self on her knees, and rested her head on his bosom. 

He gently stroked her hair. 

“ My darling, forgive me for all the suffering I have 
caused you,” he said slowly, and breathing painfully. 

“ I do, Albert, I do. Oh ! my love, I never wronged 
you — it was a base falsehood, dearest.” 

“ I was a fool, Maggie, a blind idiot, to believe that a 
woman like you could be false to her marriage vows. 
Uncle David wanted me to wed Miss Osbourne, so that 
he might borrow money from her father. Harry Lacy 
aided him to carry out his scheme, and between them 
they obtained a divorce for me. From that hour, 
dear, I have known no peace, and I am dying as I 
deserve.” 

“ O Albert, my husband ! ” cried Margaret as she 
saw an awful pallor spread over the beloved face. 

“ Maggie, dear, lay my haid on your shoulder. There, 
I breathe better.” 

“ Are you comfortable now ? ” 

“ Raise my head — higher ! ” 

Margaret raised the dying man’s face so that it 
touched hers, and put his nerveless arms around her. 
She could hardly bear his weight, though she propped 
him up with pillows in order to make him as comfort- 
able as possible. 

“ Higher ! Oh, oh, Maggie ! ” 

“ There, dearest, try to be calm. Pray to God, Albert. 
Try to repeat the ‘ Our Father ’ after me.” 

And the heroic woman controlled her own sorrow in 


356 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

order to console the departing soul of the man she had 
, so fondly loved. 

In a clear musical voice Margaret repeated the most 
beautiful of all prayers, and Albert’s dying lips murmured 
the words after her. 

They did not see the woman who had entered the room 
and stood at the foot of the bed. 

It was a strange death scene — the dying husband in 
the arms of his divorced wife, and his legal wife standing 
looking at them in silent astonishment. 

As Margaret said “ Amen,” she heard a strange sound — 
it was the death rattle in the dying man’s throat. 

Albert tried to speak, but he could only say : 

“ Mag — gie, Mag — gie ! ” 

And then again the dreadful sound that made her 
shudder. Suddenly she felt Albert lean heavily against 
her. 

“ He is dying ! ” cried Mrs. Williams, rushing to the 
other side of the bed. “ My husband, have you no word 
for me ? ” asked the legal wife. 

But the ears she asked the question of were deaf — 
Albert Williams had gone on the final journey. 

Margaret gently laid his head on one of the pillows, 
and leaning over him, she kissed his dead face and closed 
his eyes. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked Mrs. AVilliams, who did not 
recognize Jones Bros.’ former beautiful figure. 

“ I was the wife of the man who just died in my arms. 
You married him knowing that he loved me.” 

“ Yes, I knew it, and thought I could win his love, but 
he always longed for your presence. Then we quarreled, 
and he sought consolation in the winecup. Since my 


AS YE SOW, SO SHALL YE REAP. 


357 


son was born we have lived a dreadful life of restraint, 
coolness, and constant recriminations. His death is a 
relief.” - 

“ Oh, how can you say so ? ” 

“ Because I am telling the truth. We were never 
happy together. Even in his sleep he would murmur 
your name, and when I spoke of you he would listen to 
me, never at any other time.” 

“ I suppose you believed that I had been false to my 
marriage vows ? ” 

“Certainly, otherwise Mr. Williams could not have 
obtained an absolute divorce.” 

“ You are mistaken, madam. My divorce was a fraud- 
ulent one. Harry Lacy insulted me, I resented it, and 
he took a dreadful revenge by blasting my character.” 

“Well, we will not discuss the matter. I am the 
widow of Albert Williams, and ” 

At this moment a strange noise sounded from the lips 
of the corpse on the bed, and both the ladies present 
shuddered. 

Mrs. Williams, the cold-hearted widow, fainted — her 
conscience reproached her for her unfeeling conduct. 

Margaret turned on the gas as brightly as possible and 
examined the dead man’s face to see if he still breathed, 
but the lips were cold in death. 

After tenderly kissing them she put on her bonnet and 
wrap. She then hastily rang the bell she found in the 
room, and with a farewell glance at the body of Albert 
Williams, she left the room. 

In the hall she met the servant, who was coming up- 
stairs to answer the summons. 

“ Your master is dead, and his wife has fainted ; go to 


358 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

her assistance,’' said Margaret to the bewildered do- 
mestic as she went on downstairs, opened the hall door, 
and departed from the house of woe. 

When she found herself alone in the street the tears 
rained down her face, and pulling down her veil, she 
let them flow unrestrained. 

She was hardly conscious she was weeping, for she 
was indeed a heartbroken widow. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 


NEW YORK DRAFT RIOTS. 

Sunday, the 12th of July, proved a long, restful day 
to our heroine, for it was the first Sabbath after the 
death of Albert Williams, and she felt resigned to her 
fate ; she knew that the man whom she had loved so 
devotedly was at rest. 

She had seen her brother, and had a long talk with 
him regarding the events which had transpired from the 
time of their mother’s death until their meeting. 

Major Elliott’s hands had healed, and he called on the 
beautiful woman whom he had rescued from the flames. 

The following Monday the draft began, and the great 
metropolis experienced for the first time in years what 
that worst of monsters was — a riotous mob. 

Tenement houses were fired, and the rifle factory on 
the corner of Twenty-first Street and Second Avenue was 
looted by the rioters, after a desperate resistance by the 
citizens, who conquered at first, but were afterward 
repulsed by the mob. 

The fight that followed with the handful of police was 
equally successful as far as the rioters were concerned, 
though the police fought bravely enough. 

They were entirely overpowered by the rabble, who 
carried all before them. 

It was unsafe to be on the streets. Bullets whizzed 


359 


360 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


from windows and house tops, and unoffending citizens 
were shot down mercilessly. 

The unkempt, bloated, vindictive faces of the rioters 
were seen on every side, and our citizens trembled lest 
these human tigers should sack the city. 

Mrs. Graham, unaware of the dreadful state of affairs, 
left her little son in bed, as he was still weak and ill, and 
started for a neighboring grocery store to get him some 
bread and milk. 

The poor woman had struggled through several 
months of misery, and had to leave her former home be- 
cause she could not pay the rent, and she moved into a 
tenement house in East Forty-second Street. 

The wily lawyer had obtained her address from De- 
tective Crawford, and the morning of the riot he hap- 
pened to be in her vicinity. 

He accidentally ran across Dick Holton, who had been 
discharged from Sing Sing a few days previously. 

“ Ah, Dick ! ” said the lawyer, stretching out his hand 
to the ex-convict ; “ I am glad to see you are free.*' 

‘‘ Well, sir, I am not delighted over being out. I sort 
of got used to the quarters, and I am not half so com- 
fortable in the city.” 

At this moment Mrs. Graham passed them. John 
Blake started and nudged Holton’s arm. 

“Do you see that woman who has just turned the 
corner ? ” 

“I do,” replied Dick Holton. 

“ I want her and her boy to disappear. The city is 
now at the mercy of the rioters, so seize your oppor- 
tunity.” 

And the lawyer looked at Dick with a meaning smile. 


NEW YORK DRAFT RIOTS. 


361 


“ No, sir,” said the latter, shaking his head, “ I cannot 
oblige you, for I do not wish to be sent up again to Sing 
Sing, as well as I like the place. I would get a life sen- 
tence if caught.” 

“ Pshaw ! you couldn’t be detected now ; the city is in 
too much confusion. I will give you a check for five 
thousand dollars for your job,” said Blake, endeavoring 
to tempt the man’s cupidity. 

“ Well, I’ll do it for the money, as I must have it at 
any price ! I might as well be in Sing Sing as in this 
great city without a dime to my name.” 

“ Do your work and come to my office to-morrow for 
your check.” 

“ I will be there,” said Holton, following Mrs. Graham 
who had repassed on her return to her miserable home. 

The ex-convict was about twenty paces behind her, 
and John Blake turned up the street, muttering under 
his breath : 

“ If that woman and her child were no more 1 would 
have nothing to fear from either Madame Roland or 
Ned Osgood.” 

Dick Holton had no trouble to find the floor the 
unfortunate lady lived on in the great tenement. 

He hastily left the building with his heart fired by the 
greed of gold, ready to commit any dastardly deed. 

About an hour later he returned with a can of kero- 
sene oil and gunpowder. He hid himself in a small 
pantry which he had discovered outside one of the 
halls. 

It was used as a sort of storeroom for coal and wood 
by the tenants. 

The criminal bided his time, as he shrewdly guessed 


362 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

the riot had only commenced, and the mob would even- 
tually fire some of the buildings in that vicinity. 

The first day of the draft was a memorable one for the 
reporters attached to the different city journals. 

Johnny Ryan, who had escaped from the Confederates, 
was once more in New York. 

He had been sent uptown by the editor of the Herald 
to report the situation. 

He had not seen Osgood since he had saved him from 
being poisoned by Corporal Hicks, and therefore was 
more than surprised to run across his friend on Broad- 
way. 

The two young men gave each other a warm clasp of 
the hands. 

“ Hello ! old fellow, I am glad to see you. Why, you 
look like a major-general in your new captain’s uniform. 
Didn’t I tell you that you would rise from the ranks? 
All of our boys of the Seventh do.” 

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Johnny, for only for 
you I never would have lived to be promoted.” 

‘‘ Phew ! but it is hot,” said the reporter, changing the 
subject. “ I am famished. I have not had my break- 
fast yet, and it is almost dinner time now,” said he, look- 
ing at his watch. 

“ It is time, then, you had something to eat, and I shall 
not object to join you, as I have had all the work I could 
do this morning,” remarked the young officer. 

The two friends entered the first restuarant they came 
to and ordered a substantial repast. 

After they had satisfied their hunger Johnny asked 
Osgood if he had seen much fighting downtown. 

“ I would rather fight Confederates than this mob. 


NEW YORK DRAFT RIOTS. 363 

They came into my recruiting office this morning, beat 
my sergeant, who was on duty, and smashed things gen- 
erally. The draft has caused no end of trouble in this 
city. I did not expect we were going to have such a 
state of affairs.” 

“ Well, I did, for I saw that the working people were 
tired of the war. We are going to have a night of it.” 

“ You had better be careful, Johnny, or you will fare 
badly if some of those tigers catch you.” 

“ I am not afraid of myself ; but I heard the mob was 
sacking the mayor’s hoilse.” 

“ It will be a dreadful thing if they get the upper hand 
and break into the banks.” 

“ It will beat the Reign of Terror in France if we do 
not control the rabble. Well, old boy, shake hands ; we 
may not meet again,” said Johnny, suiting the action to 
the word. 

‘‘ I shall have to go to the arsenal and report for duty. 
I promised Major Elliott I would meet him there at half- 
past three.” 

“ Come, then, we can walk down together, as I 
promised to go to headquarters and report to Tom 
Acton.” 

“ While he is superintendent of the police force we 
are safe.” 

“ Yes, you may well say so. Why, when I was up at 
headquarters this morning I heard Ben Carpenter say 
he would win this fight or never come back alive.” 

“By Jove, the draft riots of 1863 will not be forgotten 
by eyewitnesses. I saw a poor old negro nearly beaten 
to death, and I had not the power to save him, as I was 
alone. I found myself longing Tor my company of blue- 


364 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

coats, and I would have shot down his assailants like 
dogs.” 

“ Ned, do you know I shall be glad when this night is 
over ? ” 

“ So will I, my friend. Come, let us walk faster or 
we will find ourselves hemmed in soon.” 

They had walked as far as Ninth Street and Broadway 
when they were overtaken by a party of roughs who 
where yelling like a pack of infuriated demons as they 
chased a policeman up Broadway. 

Johnny recognized the officer as Kennedy, chief of the 
police. 

“We must save him,” cried Johnny; “he is running 
toward us.” 

Captain Osgood pulled out his revolver and the reporter 
followed his example. The two companions waited on 
the corner for the policeman, who was rapidly coming 
toward them. A cab was passing and Johnny called to 
the driver to stop. 

“Where do you want to drive to ? ” 

“ Headquarters.” 

“ All right. I’ll drive you there for five dollars.” 

“You shall have it. Pull up here.” 

Johnny sprang toward Kennedy as he dashed around 
the corner of Ninth Street, and grabbing him by the arm, 
dragged the unfortunate man to the carriage, saying : 

“ Now is your time, jump in ! ” 

The reporter sprang into the carriage with the officer, 
while Osgood held the crowd back with his pistol ; 
Johnny put his head out of the carriage window and 
yelled to his friend : 

“Jump up beside the driver.” 


NEW YORK DRAFT RIOTS. 


365 


Osgood managed to elude the crowd and get into the 
vehicle. He was not a moment too soon, for as they 
drove away a shower of stones greeted them, which, 
luckily, did not harm any of the occupants, who arrived 
safely at police headquarters. 


CHAPTER XLV. 


RETRIBUTION.* 

When Captain Osgood left his companions at head- 
quarters he walked on until he found himself in Center 
Street, and he congratulated himself on escaping the mob. 

He did not meet a person with whom he w'as acquainted 
until he turned the corner of White Street on his way to 
the arsenal, when he came face to face with Harry Lacy. 

Both men stopped and looked each other in the face. 

The dry goods drummer had the grace not to offer the 
officer his hand. 

Captain Osgood’s countenance wore a dark, wrathful 
expression as he gazed at the scoundrel who had dared 
to blast his sister’s reputation. 

“ Harry Lacy, you are a consummate villain, and if I 
did not feel that I should disgrace my uniform I would 
shoot you as I would a venomous reptile. You are a 
cowardly cur to dare to malign my sister. You were my 
father’s guest in the days of his prosperity — my sister’s 
would-be suitor.” 

And I would have made her my wife ; but she scorned 
my love, and drove me to the verge of madness by her 
proud disdain,” 

You dastardly hound ! Is this the excuse you offer 
me for your conduct ? ” demanded Captain Osgood in a 
rage as he caught Harry Lacy by the throat. 

366 


RETRIBUTION. 


367 


The two men grappled, and the indignant officer threw 
the dry goods drummer on the pavement and hastily 
turned on his heel. 

He had taken but a few steps when he was startled 
by the discharge of firearms, and quickly turning, he 
saw his late antagonist in the arms of two men. 

Captain Osgood retraced his steps, and was astonished 
to see that his sister’s enemy had just expired. 

One of the men unfastened Lacy’s clothing, and dis- 
covered a dreadful wound in the left side. As he did so 
a revolver fell on the ground, which explained the 
accident. 

The trigger must have been forced back by catching 
in some portion of his inside pocket, and the weapon was 
discharged as he fell. 

The officer told the men where to take the body, as he 
knew that an uncle of the dead man resided in Thirty- 
fifth Street, and he hastened on his way to the arsenal 
feeling that even in this world the wicked sometimes suf- 
fer retribution. 

Throughout this dreadful day there were various 
small mobs scattered all over the city, and telegrams 
were pouring into headquarters asking for aid in 
many districts unprotected by either the militia or the 
police. 

Johnny Ryan had gone uptown to see how matters 
were progressing, and he happened to be in the neigh- 
borhood of East Forty-second Street toward evening 
when a raw-boned old woman with a large iron poker in 
her hand stopped him. 

“ I believe you are a spy,” she said, laying a grimy 
hand on the reporter’s arm. 


368 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Prove it ! ” cried a great beetle-browed ruffian, “ and 
I will brain him.” 

“ Have some sense, man,” Johnny said to the rioter ; 
but turning to the woman, he held up his notebook. 
“ Mother, you can keep your eye on me if you like ; I 
must have a report for the Associated Press.” 

Just then a mad rush of rioters came down the street, 
followed by the soldiers, and Johnny extricated himself 
from his uncomfortable position and passed on toward 
Fifth Avenue. 

As he reached the corner, he saw a gentleman in the 
hands of the crowd, but as it was fast growing dark, he 
could not distinguish the man’s features. 

“ Give us your money,” cried a fellow in a red flannel 
shirt, “ or we’ll take it.” 

The gentleman handed the man several bills, and the 
people cheered and passed on just as the cry of Here 
come the soldiers ” was heard. 

The company was commanded by Captain Osgood. 

The militia and the mob met. 

The latter, being armed with the rifles stolen from the 
Twenty-first Street factory, made a desperate resistance. 

Johnny ran up one of the high stoops where he could 
overlook the fight. 

He heard the clear voice of his friend say : 

“ By the right — Company A — fire ! 

Several of the rioters fell, and also the gentleman who 
had been stopped by them. 

Johnny saw him stagger and fall at the foot of the 
stoop he was standing on, and he ran down to the fallen 
man’s assistance. 

Johnny lifted the gentleman in his arms and asked ; 


RETRIBUTION. 


369 


“ Are you hurt, sir ? ” 

The wounded man made no reply, and Johnny put his 
hand over his heart, but he could not feel it beat ; he 
then dragged him to the gas lamp and saw a small bul- 
let hole in his forehead. 

‘‘ He is dead ! ” exclaimed the reporter. “ I wonder 
who he is ? He must be of some account, for he is 
dressed in the latest style. His face looks familiar, 
too.” 

Johnny put his hand in the dead man’s pocket and 
pulled out a card case and read the name of “ Richard 
Arlington ” in dumfounded surprise. 

“ By the Stars and Stripes ! I thought I knew his face. 
I will take his jewelry away from him,” and the reporter 
took a watch, chain, diamond pin, and other trinkets 
from the corpse, and put them in his own pocket. He 
then rushed off for the dead man’s house, which was but 
a few blocks below on the avenue. 

He rang the basement bell violently, and Kate 
Fagan, very pale-faced, opened one of the windows 
and asked : 

“ Who is there ? ” 

“ Johnny Ryan,” replied the newspaper man 
promptly. 

Kate flew around and opened the basement door. 

The reporter said : 

“ Kate, I am glad to see you, because I know you to 
be a brave girl. A dreadful accident has happened to 
Mr. Arlington.” 

“ O Johnny ! ” 

“ He is shot, and I must have some aid to bring his 
body home. Call some of your menservants and let 


370 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


them help me carry him, then you go and break the news 
to his wife.” 

Kate silently obeyed her lover, and the coachman and 
butler went with Johnny and brought the New York 
millionmre back to the home he had left only half an 
hour before full of health and life. 

The reporter gave Kate Mr. Arlington’s watch and 
jewelry and left the house. 

The fire bells were ringing as Johnny turned the cor- 
ner of Forty-Second Street, and he saw a large tenement 
house was on fire. 

Dick Holton had accomplished his dreadful commis- 
sion, but the woman whose life he sought was not in the 
burning building. 

She had gone out to get some food from a neighbor, 
who was always willing to oblige her when she had no 
money to purchase supplies. 

When Mrs. Graham came back the house was blazing, 
and the flames were pouring out of the windows of the 
room she occupied. 

Oh, merciful Heaven ! My boy is in that room ! 
Save him ! save him ! ” cried the frantic mother as a 
small figure in a white night dress was seen standing at 
one of the windows. 

The reporter saw that the child could be saved by 
prompt action, and he called for a ladder and an ax, 
which were brought as quickly as possible from one of 
the neighboring houses. 

Johnny placed the ladder to the window, mounted it, 
and breaking in the frame with an ax, he jumped into 
the room, caught up the child and descended the ladder. 


RETRIBUTION. 371 

placing the boy safely in his mother^s arms amid the 
cheers of the bystanders. 

Johnny looked at the poor mother as the joy beamed 
in her face, and recognized Mrs. Graham. 

“ Madam, please follow me ; I will take you to a place 
where you can find shelter for to-night.” 

Johnny escorted her to the abode of Mrs. Arlington, 
and placing her and her child in Kate’s care, he told the 
quick-witted girl who the newcomer was. 

Kate promised to take care of Mrs. Graham, and the 
reporter went down to headquarters with rapid strides 
to learn what the police reports were. 

The next morning Dick Holton’s body was found 
burned almost to a crisp in Mrs. Graham’s room. 

John Blake’s conscience smote him for the first time 
in a long while when he read the fate of his tool in the 
Herald of the next morning. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 


FOILED AT LAST. 

John Blake was dumfounded when he discovered 
that Mrs. Graham was an inmate of his dead client’s 
house, and he determined to make one more effort to 
retain the fortune that he had sinned and schemed 
to grasp. 

Three days after his friend’s funeral he called at his 
late residence, and in answer to his ring Kate Fagan 
opened the door. 

She looked crossly at the lawyer, whom she disliked, 
and said : 

‘‘ The ladies told me to say they were not at home.” 

“ I am a friend of the family, Kate, therefore you 
need not be afraid to announce me. Will you kindly 
give Mrs. Graham my card ? I would like a few minutes 
private conversation with her.” 

Kate took the lawyer’s card, and he walked into the 
reception room. John Blake muttered to himself under 
his breath : 

“ Pshaw ! there is but one way for me to get the mil- 
lions that Richard Arlington has left behind him.” 

He heard the soft rustle of garments, and a. moment 
later Mrs. Graham, dressed in slight mourning, entered 
the room. 

The lawyer arose, bowed profoundly, and said : 

373 


FOILED AT LAST. 373 

“ I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Graham, for- 
merly Miss Girard ? ” 

“ You have, sir,” replied the lady haughtily. 

“ As it is some years since we have met, Mrs. Graham, 
probably you have forgotten me.” 

“ It would be very strange if I had, Mr. Blake, for we 
seldom forget our enemies, though we may forgive 
them,” she answered indignantly. 

“ Do not get excited, my dear madam. I came here 
with the kindest intentions. Humph ! I came here to 
ask if you would be so kind as to come and keep house 
for me.” 

Mrs. Graham stared at the man before her in utter 
amazement. 

“You know I always admired you ever since the first 
hour I had the pleasure of meeting you at your aunt’s. 
Dr. Dempsey, your half brother, was a classmate of 
mine at Harvard.” 

“ Dr. Dempsey would be surprised to learn that you 
have treated me as you have done, and my mother on her 
deathbed left me in his care.” 

“Well, perhaps my old friend would have objected to 
my methods, but you had no right to reject my suit and 
marry Harry Graham.” 

“You are mistaken, sir. I had every right, as I never 
encouraged your addresses.” 

“ My dear madam, we will not argue the point. You 
have always regarded me as your enemy, whereas I 
would have been your friend if you had come to me 
after the death of your uncle-in-law.” 

“ I wrote to you several times and you never replied.” 

“ I did not receive your letters or I would have has- 


374 


ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 


tened to your assistance. It is only now by the merest 
accident that I discovered where you were. Let us be 
friends — aye, the dearest of friends. Become my wife 
and I will make your life as happy as hitherto it has 
been miserable.” 

“ Never !” exclaimed Mrs. Graham. “ I loathe you 1 
Leave me ? ” 

“ Madam, your words are harsh, but I forgive them. 
It is to our mutual interest that you become my wife ; 
by so doing you will obtain a vast amount of wealth, for 
I have it in my power to give you a fortune.” 

“ Then my suspicions are correct. My husband’s uncle 
did make a will in my favor,” said Mrs. Graham, looking 
the lawyer in the face, as if she would compel the man 
before her to acknowledge the truth. 

The front door bell rang and several persons entered 
the hall, but Mrs. Graham and her guest were too ab- 
sorbed in their conversation to pay any attention to any- 
thing else. 

“ Yes, madam, your uncle-in-law made a will before he 
died in your favor, but it is only by becoming my wife 
that you will ever receive a dollar of his estate, for the 
witnesses are dead and I hold the will.” 

“Mr. Blake, I begin to understand why you are so 
anxious that I should become your wife. It is a legal 
right to my fortune which you seek. Leave me; your 
presence is an insult, sir,” said the indignant woman, 
pointing to the door. 

“ My proud beauty, you seem to forget that you are 
utterly friendless, for the only one who could come to 
your rescue — if he were alive — would be your husband, 
and he is dead.” 


FOILED AT LAST. 


375 


The folding doors of the reception room were suddenly 
thrown open and Johnny Ryan entered the room. 

“ It is false ! ” he exclaimed. “ Colonel Graham 
lives.” 

The officer came quietly into the room and clasped his 
wife in his arms. 

His heart was too full for words. 

“ Thank Heaven, dearest, for its mercy,” murmured 
Mrs. Graham, weeping tears of joy while clasped in 
her husband’s arms. 

“John Blake, you and my cousin, the late Richard 
Arlington, conspired to rob myself and heirs of my late 
uncle’s estate.” 

“ I do not understand you, colonel.” 

“ My uncle made a will, his last will, in which I was to 
receive the greater portion of his estate.” 

While the colonel was speaking another person was 
added to the group in the reception room, and as Harry 
Graham ceased speaking. Captain Osgood stepped for- 
ward and said : 

“ That will I witnessed.” 

“ Colonel Graham should have better proof than the 
unsupported word of a discharged convict,” sneered the 
lawyer. 

The hot, impatient spirit of the reporter could not 
stand the unjust taunt of Mr. Blake. 

“You forget, sir, you are speaking of a United States 
officer, a man who was your victim. Ned Osgood’s gal- 
lant conduct on the field of battle has won him a cap- 
taincy.” 

“ Have you no other witness ? ” demanded the 
lawyer. 


376 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

“ Will you deny that you placed Madame Roland in a 
lunatic asylum ? " asked Captain Osgood as that lady 
and Mrs. Arlington entered the room. 

“ John Blake, I escaped and found a good, faithful 
relative to protect me against your machinations,” said 
the old lady, then turned to Mrs. Graham, whom she 
warmly embraced. 

“ I am more than thankful to find you alive and 
well, and that we have lived to meet each other once 
more.” 

“ Pooh ! ” said the lawyer, “ an escaped lunatic and an 
ex-convict you may implicitly believe, Colonel Graham, 
but they would not prove very reliable witnesses in a 
court of law. Have you no other witness?” 

“ Faith, I am not an escaped lunatic nor have I ever 
spent a summer in Sing Sing. I can swear I overheard 
your conversation with Mr. Arlington, and afterward 
with Captain Osgood, one day when you both called on 
Mr. Arlington at his villa, and I have every word down 
in black and white, as I took a shorthand report of it. I 
saw you show my friend the grave of Mrs. Graham, who 
is now standing here with us.” 

The lawyer was completely overwhelmed at Johnny 
Ryan’s unexpected testimony, and he sat down, as his 
trembling limbs refused to support him. Mrs. Arling- 
ton turned to the detected villain and said : 

“ My unfortunate husband was your dupe. A month 
before his death he extorted a copy of your uncle’s will, 
Colonel Graham, from Mr. Blake,” and the lady went to 
a small cabinet at the end of the apartment, and unlock- 
ing it, took out a legal-looking document which she 
handed to Colonel Graham. “ Here it is. You will 


FOILED AT LAST. 377 

find that you are your uncle’s heir to the principal portion 
of his estate.” 

Colonel Graham took the paper from Mrs. Arlington’s 
hands, and casting a glance over it, he saw that it was 
the original will made by his uncle. 

“John Blake, you are a villain without one redeeming 
quality. I only restrain myself from doing my duty and 
handing you over to the officers of the law from personal 
feelings, for I do not wish the memory of my unfortunate 
cousin to be branded with infamy. Send me a written 
confession, properly witnessed, that Mr. Osgood was 
falsely accused of the crime for which he suffered, and 
restore me the portion of my uncle’s fortune remaining 
in your possession — then go elsewhere and lead a better 
life.” 

“ Your conditions. Colonel Graham, I shall comply 
with. Allow me to wish you all a very good- 
afternoon.” 

And the lawyer, with a bow, left the house. 

“ He is a cool one ! ” exclaimed the reporter. 

“ That was nobly done, colonel,” said Captain Osgcod, 
grasping Colonel Graham’s hand. 

“ If Madame Roland and you can forgive that man, 
surely my wife and 1 can. The lesson suffering 
teaches, my friends, is charity toward all. True, I am 
satisfied to leave Blake to the justice of Heaven.” 

“ Are you ? Well, I am not, and I sent word to head- 
quarters before I came here. There are two detectives 
awaiting Mr. Blake with a warrant for his arrest for ar- 
son. He fired the tenement house in which you lived, 
Mrs. Graham, on the night of the riot, and T obtained 
proofs of the crime in the most unforeseen way. Your 


378 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

little son, the night I saved him from the fire, had a 
small piece of paper in his hand, of which I took posses- 
sion. Here it is.” 

And the reporter read : 

“‘lam dying. The child may be seen from the win- 
dow and be saved, but I am dreadfully burned by the 
explosion of gunpowder, which I bought to fire this 
house with at the instigation of John Blake, the lawyer, 
who offered me five thousand dollars to put Mrs. Gra- 
ham and her child out of the way.' 

“Now what do you say to that?” asked Johnny 
Ryan. 

“ That hanging is too good for the scoundrel,” replied 
Colonel Graham. 

“ That is the note my little son told me about. He 
said a man gave it to him in our room the night of the 
fire. I thought the child was raving, for he has not been 
well since you saved his life,” said Mrs. Graham to 
Johnny. 

“ We will carry him away somewhere in the country, 
dearest. You both need it, and I have a whole month’s 
furlough to take care of you both,” said Colonel Gra- 
ham, kissing his wife. 

“As we all have to thank the Herald's special corre- 
spondent for foiling Blake’s schemes, I propose that we 
buy and furnish him a house for a wedding present.” 

“ With all my heart, captain, I second your motion. 
Who is the bride ? ” 

The reporter disappeared for a moment, and when he 
returned, to the room he almost dragged Kate with him 
before the company. 


FOILED AT LAST. 


379 


Here she is. She has been Mrs. Arlington’s maid 
for some time. She has a good common school educa- 
tion, and I know she will make the right kind of a wife 
for a newspaper rnan.” 

Kate’s face was scarlet at her lover’s praise. 

“You are right, and I wish you both a great deal of 
happiness,” said Colonel Graham ; and then, turning to 
Mrs. Ai;lington, he continued : “ Madam, I hope you will 
consider me your friend, and allow me to provide for 
your future.” 

“ Many thanks for your generosity, but I have suffi- 
cient for all my wants. My husband’s life was insured 
for fifty thousand dollars,” answered Editj:i Arlington, 
with a grateful smile. 

She then went over to Captain Osgood, and holding 
out her hand to her old sweetheart, she said ; 

“ Can you forgive me ? ” 

“Edith, ! have forgiven you long ago. Will you let 
me be your friend, and perchance in time let me win 
back the heart I thought was mine ? ” 

“ I gave my hand to' Richard Arlington through the 
influence of my mother, but my heart has ever been 
yours.” 

“ Edith, your love was all I needed to make me 
happy,” said Captain Osgood as he kissed the hand of 
the blushing widow. 

“ My mother, Edward, asked my forgiveness on her 
deathbed for the part which she had taken against you.” 

“ I forgave her long ago, dearest,” replied our hero. 

After the war both Captain Osgood and his friend 
Johnny Ryan were married. 


380 ROMANCE OF A DRY GOODS DRUMMER. 

The genial reporter was presented with a handsome 
furnished house by his two friends. 

Major Elliott married our heroine, Mrs. Williams, and 
sent his resignation to the War Office. He had inherited 
a handsome fortune from his uncle, who also bequeathed 
to him a palatial home near Hartford, where Margaret 
installed her humble and faithful friend Ann as her 
housekeeper. 

David Jones died a year after his brother James of 
apoplexy, and Mrs. Jardine closed out the business, as 
she would not have Jack Jones as a partner. She then 
set Gerald Flavin up in business and retained a half 
interest in the new firm, as this wealthy widow had a 
passion for investing her fortune in such enterprises. 

Margaret is happy in her husband’s love, and she 
shudders when she remembers the trials which she 
experienced while she was a saleslady, and in conse- 
quence takes an interest in all classes of women who are 
obliged to toil for their maintenance. 

Edith Osgood is also a happy wife and mother, proud 
of her noble husband, who is now a colonel in the United 
States Army. 

She has more real pleasure in her home at the officers’ 
quarters at Fort Adams than she ever had in her splendid 
mansion on Fifth Avenue, as she has learned to prize the 
love of a noble man, and to estimate the real worth of 
“ Satins and Diamonds.” 


THE END. 


For Love of Gold. 

BY 

MARIE WALSH. 

This novel is based on the popular drama 
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